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-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Conspiracy on Callisto, by James MacCreigh
-
-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: Conspiracy on Callisto
-
-Author: James MacCreigh
-
-Release Date: June 25, 2020 [EBook #62476]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSPIRACY ON CALLISTO ***
-
-
-
-
-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="347" height="500" alt=""/>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="titlepage">
-
-<h1>Conspiracy on Callisto</h1>
-
-<h2>By JAMES MacCREIGH</h2>
-
-<p>Revolt was flaring on Callisto, and Peter Duane<br />
-held the secret that would make the uprising a<br />
-success or failure. Yet he could make no move,<br />
-could favor no side&mdash;his memory was gone&mdash;he<br />
-didn't know for whom he fought.</p>
-
-<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br />
-Planet Stories Winter 1943.<br />
-Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br />
-the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
-
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>Duane's hand flicked to his waist and hung there, poised. His dis-gun
-remained undrawn.</p>
-
-<p>The tall, white-haired man&mdash;Stevens&mdash;smiled.</p>
-
-<p>"You're right, Duane," he said. "I could blast you, too. Nobody would
-win that way, so let's leave the guns where they are."</p>
-
-<p>The muscles twitched in Peter Duane's cheeks, but his voice, when it
-came, was controlled. "Don't think we're going to let this go," he
-said. "We'll take it up with Andrias tonight. We'll see whether you can
-cut me out!"</p>
-
-<p>The white-haired man's smile faded. He stepped forward, one hand
-bracing him against the thrust of the rocket engines underneath,
-holding to the guide rail at the side of the ship's corridor.</p>
-
-<p>He said, "Duane, Andrias is your boss, not mine. I'm a free lance; I
-work for myself. When we land on Callisto tonight I'll be with you when
-you turn our&mdash;shall I say, our <i>cargo</i>?&mdash;over to him. And I'll collect
-my fair share of the proceeds. That's as far as it goes. I take no
-orders from him."</p>
-
-<p>A heavy-set man in blue appeared at the end of the connecting corridor.
-He was moving fast, but stopped short when he saw the two men.</p>
-
-<p>"Hey!" he said. "Change of course&mdash;get to your cabins." He seemed about
-to walk up to them, then reconsidered and hurried off. Neither man paid
-any attention.</p>
-
-<p>Duane said, "Do I have to kill you?" It was only a question as he asked
-it, without threatening.</p>
-
-<p>A muted alarm bell sounded through the P.A. speakers, signaling a
-one-minute warning. The white-haired man cocked his eyebrow.</p>
-
-<p>"Not at all," he said. He took the measure of his slim, red-headed
-opponent. Taller, heavier, older, he was still no more uncompromisingly
-belligerent than Duane, standing there. "Not at all," he repeated.
-"Just take your ten thousand and let it go at that. Don't make trouble.
-Leave Andrias out of our private argument."</p>
-
-<p>"Damn you!" Duane flared. "I was promised fifty thousand. I need that
-money. Do you think&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>"Forget what I think," Stevens said, his voice clipped and angry. "I
-don't care about fairness, Duane, except to myself. I've done all the
-work on this&mdash;I've supplied the goods. My price is set, a hundred
-thousand Earth dollars. What Andrias promised you is no concern of
-mine. The fact is that, after I've taken my share, there's only ten
-thousand left. That's all you get!"</p>
-
-<p>Duane stared at him a long second, then nodded abruptly. "I was right
-the first time," he said. "I'll <i>have</i> to kill you!"</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Already his hand was streaking toward the grip of his dis-gun, touching
-it, drawing it forth. But the white-haired man was faster. His arms
-swept up and pinioned Duane, holding him impotent.</p>
-
-<p>"Don't be a fool," he grated. "Duane&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>The P.A. speaker rattled, blared something unintelligible. Neither man
-heard it. Duane lunged forward into the taller man's grip, sliding down
-to the floor. The white-haired man grappled furiously to keep his hold
-on Peter's gun arm, but Peter was slipping away. Belatedly, Stevens
-went for his own gun.</p>
-
-<p>He was too late. Duane's was out and leveled at him.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Now</i> will you listen to reason?" Duane panted. But he halted, and the
-muzzle of his weapon wavered. The floor swooped and surged beneath him
-as the thrust of the mighty jets was cut off. Suddenly there was no
-gravity. The two men, locked together, floated weightlessly out to the
-center of the corridor.</p>
-
-<p>"Course change!" gasped white-haired Stevens. "Good God!"</p>
-
-<p>The ship had reached the midpoint of its flight. The bells had sounded,
-warning every soul on it to take shelter, to strap themselves in their
-pressure bunks against the deadly stress of acceleration as the ship
-reversed itself and began to slow its headlong plunge into Callisto.
-But the two men had not heeded.</p>
-
-<p>The small steering rockets flashed briefly. The men were thrust
-bruisingly against the side of the corridor as the rocket spun lazily
-on its axis. The side jets flared once more to halt the spin, when the
-one-eighty turn was completed, and the men were battered against the
-opposite wall, still weightless, still clinging to each other, still
-struggling.</p>
-
-<p>Then the main-drive bellowed into life again, and the ship began to
-battle against its own built-up acceleration. The corridor floor rose
-up with blinking speed to smite them&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>And the lights went out in a burst of crashing pain for Peter Duane.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Someone was talking to him. Duane tried to force an eye open to see who
-it was, and failed. Something damp and clinging was all about his face,
-obscuring his vision. But the voice filtered in.</p>
-
-<p>"Open your mouth," it said. "Please, Peter, open your mouth. You're all
-right. Just swallow this."</p>
-
-<p>It was a girl's voice. Duane was suddenly conscious that a girl's light
-hand was on his shoulder. He shook his head feebly.</p>
-
-<p>The voice became more insistent. "Swallow this," it said. "It's only a
-stimulant, to help you throw off the shock of your&mdash;accident. You're
-all right, otherwise."</p>
-
-<p>Obediently he opened his mouth, and choked on a warm, tingly liquid.
-He managed to swallow it, and lay quiet as deft feminine hands did
-something to his face. Suddenly light filtered through his closed
-eyelids, and cool air stirred against his damp face.</p>
-
-<p>He opened his eyes. A slight red-headed girl in white nurse's uniform
-was standing there. She stepped back a pace, a web of wet gauze bandage
-in her hands, looking at him.</p>
-
-<p>"Hello," he whispered. "You&mdash;where am I?"</p>
-
-<p>"In the sick bay," she said. "You got caught out when the ship changed
-course. Lucky you weren't hurt, Peter. The man you were with&mdash;the old,
-white-haired one, Stevens&mdash;wasn't so lucky. He was underneath when the
-jets went on. Three ribs broken&mdash;his lung was punctured. He died in the
-other room an hour ago."</p>
-
-<p>Duane screwed his eyes tight together and grimaced. When he opened
-them again there was alertness and clarity in them&mdash;but there was also
-bafflement.</p>
-
-<p>"Girl," he said, "who are you? Where am I?"</p>
-
-<p>"Peter!" There was shock and hurt in the tone of her voice. "I'm&mdash;don't
-you know me, Peter?"</p>
-
-<p>Duane shook his head confusedly. "I don't know anything," he said.
-"I&mdash;I don't even know my own name."</p>
-
-<p>"Duane, Duane," a man's heavy voice said. "That won't wash. Don't play
-dumb on me."</p>
-
-<p>"Duane?" he said. "Duane...." He swiveled his head and saw a dark,
-squat man frowning at him. "Who are you?" Peter asked.</p>
-
-<p>The dark man laughed. "Take your time, Duane," he said easily. "You'll
-remember me. My name's Andrias. I've been waiting here for you to wake
-up. We have some business matters to discuss."</p>
-
-<p>The nurse, still eyeing Duane with an odd bewilderment, said: "I'll
-leave you alone for a moment. Don't talk too much to him, Mr. Andrias.
-He's still suffering from shock."</p>
-
-<p>"I won't," Andrias promised, grinning. Then, as the girl left the room,
-the smile dropped from his face.</p>
-
-<p>"You play rough, Duane," he observed. "I thought you'd have trouble
-with Stevens. I didn't think you'd find it necessary to put him out of
-the way so permanently. Well, no matter. If you had to kill him, it's
-no skin off my nose. Give me a release on the merchandise. I've got
-your money here."</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Duane waved a hand and pushed himself dizzily erect, swinging his legs
-over the side of the high cot. A sheet had been thrown over him, but he
-was fully dressed. He examined his clothing with interest&mdash;gray tunic,
-gray leather spaceman's boots. It was unfamiliar.</p>
-
-<p>He shook his head in further confusion, and the motion burst within his
-skull, throbbing hotly. He closed his eyes until it subsided, trying to
-force his brain to operate, to explain to him where and what he was.</p>
-
-<p>He looked at the man named Andrias.</p>
-
-<p>"Nobody seems to believe me," he said, "but I really don't know what's
-going on. Things are moving too fast for me. Really, I&mdash;why, I don't
-even know my own name! My head&mdash;it hurts. I can't think clearly."</p>
-
-<p>Andrias straightened, turned a darkly-suspicious look on Duane. "Don't
-play tricks on me," he said savagely. "I haven't time for them. I won't
-mince words with you. Give me a release on the cargo now, before I have
-to get rough. This is a lot more important to me than your life is."</p>
-
-<p>"Go to hell," Duane said shortly. "I'm playing no tricks."</p>
-
-<p>There was an instant's doubt in Andrias' eyes, then it flashed away. He
-bent closer, peered at Duane. "I almost think&mdash;" he began.</p>
-
-<p>Then he shook his head. "No," he said. "You're lying all right. You
-killed Stevens to get his share&mdash;and now you're trying to hold me up.
-That's your last chance that just went by, Duane. From now on, I'm
-running this show!"</p>
-
-<p>He spun around and strode to the door, thrust it open. "Dakin!" he
-bellowed. "Reed!"</p>
-
-<p>Two large, ugly men in field-gray uniforms, emblazoned with the
-shooting-star insignia of Callisto's League police, came in, looking to
-Andrias for instructions.</p>
-
-<p>"Duane here is resisting arrest," Andrias said. "Take him along. We'll
-fix up the charges later."</p>
-
-<p>"You can't do that," Duane said wearily. "I'm sick. If you've got
-something against me, save it. Wait till my head clears. I'm sure I can
-explain&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>"Explain, hell." The dark man laughed. "If I wait, this ship will be
-blasting off for Ganymede within two hours. I'll wait&mdash;but so will the
-ship. It's not going anywhere till I give it clearance. I run Callisto;
-I'll give the orders here!"</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ph1">II</p>
-
-<p>Whoever this man Andrias was, thought Duane, he was certainly a man of
-importance on Callisto. As he had said, <i>he</i> gave the orders.</p>
-
-<p>The crew of the rocket made no objection when Andrias and his men took
-Duane off without a word. Duane had thought the nurse, who seemed a
-good enough sort, might have said something on his behalf. But she was
-out of sight as they left. A curt sentence to a gray-clad official on
-the blast field where the rocket lay, and the man nodded and hurried
-off, to tell the rocket's captain that the ship was being refused
-clearance indefinitely.</p>
-
-<p>A long, powerful ground car slid up before them. Andrias got in front,
-while the two uniformed men shoved Duane into the back of the car,
-climbed in beside him. Andrias gave a curt order, and the car shot
-forward.</p>
-
-<p>The driver, sitting beside Andrias, leaned forward and readied a hand
-under the dashboard. The high wail of a siren came instantly from the
-car's roof, and what traffic was on the broad, straight highway into
-which they had turned pulled aside to let them race through.</p>
-
-<p>Ahead lay the tall spires of a city. Graceful, hundreds of feet high,
-they seemed dreamlike yet somehow oddly familiar to Duane. Somewhere
-he had seen them before. He dragged deep into his mind, plumbing the
-cloudy, impenetrable haze that had settled on it, trying to bring forth
-the memories that he should have had. Amnesia, they called it; complete
-forgetting of the happenings of a lifetime. He'd heard of it&mdash;but never
-dreamed it could happen to him!</p>
-
-<p><i>My name, it seems, is Peter Duane</i>, he thought. <i>And they tell me that
-I killed a man!</i></p>
-
-<p>The thought was starkly incredible to him. A white-haired man, it had
-been; someone named Stevens. He tried to remember.</p>
-
-<p>Yes, there had been a white-haired man. And there had been an argument.
-Something to do with money, with a shipment of goods that Stevens had
-supplied to Duane. There has even been talk of killing....</p>
-
-<p>But&mdash;murder! Duane looked at his hands helplessly.</p>
-
-<p>Andrias, up ahead, was turning around. He looked sharply at Duane, for
-a long second. An uncertainty clouded his eyes, and abruptly he looked
-forward again without speaking.</p>
-
-<p>"Who's this man Andrias?" Duane whispered to the nearest guard.</p>
-
-<p>The man stared at him. "Governor Andrias," he said, "is the League's
-deputy on Callisto. You know&mdash;the Earth-Mars League. They put Governor
-Andrias here to&mdash;well, to govern for them."</p>
-
-<p>"League?" Duane asked, wrinkling his brow. He had heard something about
-a League once, yes. But it was all so nebulous....</p>
-
-<p>The other guard stirred, leaned over. "Shut up," he said heavily.
-"You'll have plenty of chance for talking later."</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>But the chance was a long time in coming. Duane found himself, an hour
-later, still in the barred room into which he'd been thrust. The guards
-had brought him there, at Andrias' order, and left him. That had been
-all.</p>
-
-<p>This was not a regular jail, Duane realized. It was more like a
-palace, something out of Earth's Roman-empire days, all white stone
-and frescoed walls. Duane wished for human companionship&mdash;particularly
-that of the nurse. Of all the people he'd met since awakening in that
-hospital bed, only she seemed warm and human. The others were&mdash;brutal,
-deadly. It was too bad, Duane reflected, that he'd failed to remember
-her. She'd seemed hurt, and she had certainly known him by first name.
-But perhaps she would understand.</p>
-
-<p>Duane sat down on a lumpy, sagging bed and buried his head in his
-hands. Dim ghosts of memory were wandering in his mind. He tried to
-conjure them into stronger relief, or to exorcise them entirely.</p>
-
-<p>Somewhere, some time, a man had said to him, "<i>Andrias is secretly
-arming the Callistan cutthroats for revolt against the League. He wants
-personal power&mdash;he's prepared to pay any price for it. He needs guns,
-Earth guns smuggled in through the League patrol. If he can wipe out
-the League police garrison&mdash;those who are loyal to the League, still,
-instead of to Andrias&mdash;he can sit back and laugh at any fleet Earth and
-Mars can send. Rockets are clumsy in an atmosphere. They're helpless.
-And if he can arm enough of Callisto's rabble, he can't be stopped.
-That's why he'll pay for electron rifles with their weight in gold.</i>"</p>
-
-<p>Duane could remember the scene clearly. Could almost see the sharp,
-aquiline face of the man who had spoken to him. But there memory
-stopped.</p>
-
-<p>A fugitive recollection raced through his mind. He halted it, dragged
-it back, pinned it down....</p>
-
-<p>They had stopped in Darkside, the spaceport on the side of Luna that
-keeps perpetually averted from Earth, as if the moon knows shame and
-wants to hide the rough and roaring dome city that nestles in one
-of the great craters. Duane remembered sitting in a low-ceilinged,
-smoke-heavy room, across the table from a tall man with white hair.
-Stevens!</p>
-
-<p>"<i>Four thousand electron rifles</i>," the man had said. "<i>Latest
-government issue. Never mind how I got them; they're perfect. You know
-my price. Take it or leave it. And it's payable the minute we touch
-ground on Callisto.</i>"</p>
-
-<p>There had been a few minutes of haggling over terms, then a handshake
-and a drink from a thin-necked flagon of pale-yellow liquid fire.</p>
-
-<p>He and the white-haired man had gone out then, made their way by
-unfrequented side streets to a great windowless building. Duane
-remembered the white-hot stars overhead, shining piercingly through
-the great transparent dome that kept the air in the sealed city of
-Darkside, as they stood at the entrance of the warehouse and spoke in
-low tones to the man who answered their summons.</p>
-
-<p>Then, inside. And they were looking at a huge chamber full of stacked
-fiber boxes&mdash;containing nothing but dehydrated dairy products and
-mining tools, by the stencils they bore. Duane had turned to the
-white-haired man with a puzzled question&mdash;and the man had laughed aloud.</p>
-
-<p>He dragged one of the boxes down, ripped it open with the sharp point
-of a handling hook. Short-barreled, flare-mouthed guns rolled out,
-tumbling over the floor. Eight of them were in that one box, and
-hundreds of boxes all about. Duane picked one up, broke it, peered into
-the chamber where the tiny capsule of U-235 would explode with infinite
-violence when the trigger was pulled, spraying radiant death three
-thousand yards in the direction the gun was aimed....</p>
-
-<p>And that memory ended.</p>
-
-<p>Duane got up, stared at his haggard face in the cracked mirror over
-the bed. "<i>They say I'm a killer</i>," he thought. "<i>Apparently I'm a
-gun-runner as well. Good lord&mdash;what am I not?</i>"</p>
-
-<p>His reflection&mdash;white, drawn face made all the more pallid by the red
-hair that blazed over it&mdash;stared back at him. There was no answer
-there. If only he could remember&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>"All right, Duane." The deep voice of a guard came to him as the door
-swung open. "Stop making eyes at yourself."</p>
-
-<p>Duane looked around. The guard beckoned. "Governor Andrias wants to
-speak to you&mdash;now. Let's not keep the governor waiting."</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>A long, narrow room, with a long carpet leading from the entrance up to
-a great heavy desk&mdash;that was Andrias' office. Duane felt a click in his
-memory as he entered. One of the ancient Earth dictators had employed
-just such a psychological trick to overawe those who came to beg favors
-of him. Muslini, or some such name.</p>
-
-<p>The trick failed to work. Duane had other things on his mind; he walked
-the thirty-foot length of the room, designed to imbue him with a sense
-of his own unimportance, as steadily as he'd ever walked in the open
-air of his home planet.</p>
-
-<p>Whichever planet that was.</p>
-
-<p>The guard had remained just inside the door, at attention. Andrias
-waved him out.</p>
-
-<p>"Here I am," said Duane. "What do you want?"</p>
-
-<p>Andrias said, "I've had the ship inspected and what I want is on it.
-That saves your life, for now. But the cargo is in your name. I could
-take it by force, if I had to. I prefer not to." He picked up a paper,
-handed it to Duane. "In spite of your behavior, you can keep alive.
-You can even collect the money for the guns&mdash;Stevens' share as well
-as your own. This is a release form, authorizing my men to take four
-hundred and twenty cases of dehydrated foods and drilling supplies from
-the hold of the <i>Cameroon</i>&mdash;the ship you came on. Sign it, and we'll
-forget our argument. Only, sign it now and get it over with. I'm losing
-patience, Duane."</p>
-
-<p>Duane said, without expression, "No."</p>
-
-<p>Dark red flooded into Andrias' sallow face. His jaws bunched angrily
-and there was a ragged thread of incomplete control to his voice as he
-spoke.</p>
-
-<p>"I'll have your neck for this, Duane," he said softly.</p>
-
-<p>Duane looked at the man's eyes. Death was behind them, peeping out.
-Mentally he shrugged. What difference did it make?</p>
-
-<p>"Give me the pen," he said shortly.</p>
-
-<p>Andrias exhaled a deep breath. You could see the tension leave him, the
-mottled anger fade from his face and leave it without expression. He
-handed the paper to Duane without a word. He gave him a pen, watched
-him scrawl his name.</p>
-
-<p>"That," he said, "is better." He paused a moment ruminatively. "It
-would have been better still if you'd not stalled me so long. I find
-that hard to forgive in my associates."</p>
-
-<p>"The money," Peter said. If he were playing a part&mdash;pretending he knew
-what he was doing&mdash;he might as well play it to the hilt. "When do I get
-it?"</p>
-
-<p>Andrias picked up the paper and looked carefully at the signature. He
-creased it thoughtfully, stowed it in a pocket before answering.</p>
-
-<p>"Naturally," he said, "there will have to be a revision of terms. I
-offered a hundred and ten thousand Earth-dollars. I would have paid
-it&mdash;but you made me angry. You'll have to pay for that."</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Duane said, "I've paid already. I've been dragged from pillar to post
-by you. That's enough. Pay me what you owe me, if you want any more of
-the same goods!"</p>
-
-<p>That was a shot in the dark&mdash;and it missed the mark.</p>
-
-<p>Andrias' eyes widened. "You amaze me, Duane," he said. He rose and
-stepped around the desk, confronting Duane. "I almost think you really
-have lost your memory, Duane," he said. "Otherwise, surely you would
-know that this is all the rifles I need. With them I'll <i>take</i> whatever
-else I want!"</p>
-
-<p>Duane said, "You're ready, then...."</p>
-
-<p>He took time to think it over, but he knew that no thought was
-required. Already the hands that he had locked behind him were
-clenched, taut. Already the muscles of his legs were tensing.</p>
-
-<p>"You're ready," he repeated. "You've armed the Callistan exiles&mdash;the
-worst gutter scum on nine planets. You're set to betray the League that
-gave you power here.... Well, that changes things. I can't let you do
-it!"</p>
-
-<p>He hurled himself at Andrias, hands sweeping around to grapple for the
-dark man's throat. Andrias, off-balance, staggered backward. But his
-own hands were diving for the twin heat guns that hung at his waist.</p>
-
-<p>Duane saw his danger, and reacted. His foot twisted around Andrias'
-ankle; his hands at the other's throat gripped tighter. He lunged
-forward, slamming the hard top of his head into the other's face,
-feeling flesh and cartilage give as Andrias' nose mashed flat. His own
-head pin-wheeled dizzily, agonizingly, as the jar revived the pain of
-his earlier accident.</p>
-
-<p>But Andrias, unconscious already, tumbled back with Duane on top of
-him. His head made an audible, spine-chilling thud as it hit the
-carpeted floor.</p>
-
-<p>Duane got up, retrieving the two heat guns, and stared at him.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>They tell me I killed Stevens the same way</i>," he thought. "<i>I'm
-getting in a rut!</i>"</p>
-
-<p>But Andrias was not dead, though he was out as cold as the void beyond
-Pluto. The thick carpeting had saved him from a broken head.</p>
-
-<p>Duane stepped over the unconscious man and looked around the room. It
-was furnished severely, to the point of barrenness. Two chairs before
-Andrias' ornate, bare-topped desk and one luxurious chair behind it;
-a tasseled bell cord within easy reach of Andrias' chair; the long
-carpet. That was all it contained.</p>
-
-<p>The problem of getting out was serious, he saw. How could one&mdash;</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ph1">III</p>
-
-<p>Methodically he ransacked the drawers of Andrias' desk. Papers, a
-whole arsenal of hand guns, Callistan money by the bale, ominously
-black-covered notebooks with cryptic figures littering their
-pages&mdash;those were the contents. A coldly impersonal desk, without the
-familiar trivia most men accumulate. There was nothing, certainly, that
-would get him out of a building that so closely resembled a fortress.</p>
-
-<p>He tumbled the things back into the drawers helter-skelter, turned
-Andrias over and searched his pockets. More money&mdash;the man must have
-had a fortune within reach at all times&mdash;and a few meaningless papers.
-Duane took the release he had signed and tore it to shreds. But that
-was only a gesture. When Andrias came to, unless Duane had managed to
-get away and accomplish something, the mere lack of written permission
-would not keep him from the rocket's lethal cargo!</p>
-
-<p>When Andrias came to....</p>
-
-<p>An idea bloomed in Duane's brain. He looked, then, at unconscious
-Andrias&mdash;and the idea withered again.</p>
-
-<p>He had thought of forcing Andrias himself to front for him, at gun's
-point, in the conventional manner of escaping prisoners. But fist
-fights, fiction to the contrary notwithstanding, leave marks on the men
-who lose them. Andrias' throat was speckled with the livid marks of
-Duane's fingers; Duane's head, butting Andrias in the face, had drawn a
-thick stream of crimson from his nostrils, turned his sharp nose askew.</p>
-
-<p>No guard of Andrias' would have been deceived for an instant, looking
-at that face&mdash;even assuming that Andrias could have been forced to
-cooperate by the threat of a gun. Which, considering the stake Andrias
-had in this play, was doubtful....</p>
-
-<p>He stood up and looked around. He had to act quickly. Already Andrias'
-breath was audible; he saw the man grimace and an arm flopped
-spasmodically on the floor. Consciousness was on its way back.</p>
-
-<p>Duane touched the heat gun he'd thrust into his belt; drew it and held
-it poised, while he sought to discover what was in his own mind. He'd
-killed a man already, they said. Was he then a killer&mdash;could he shoot
-Andrias now, in cold blood, with so much to gain and nothing to lose?</p>
-
-<p>He stood there a moment. Then, abruptly, he reversed the weapon and
-chopped it down on Andrias' skull.</p>
-
-<p>There was a sharp grunt from the still unconscious man, but no other
-sign. Only&mdash;the first tremors of movement that had shown on him halted,
-and did not reappear.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>No</i>," Duane thought. "<i>Whatever they say, I'm not a killer!</i>"</p>
-
-<p>But still he had to get out. How?</p>
-
-<p>Once more he stared around the room, catalogued its contents. The guard
-would be getting impatient. Perhaps any minute he would tap the door,
-first timorously, then with heavier strokes.</p>
-
-<p>The guard! There was a way!</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Duane eyed the length of the room. Thirty feet&mdash;it would take him a
-couple of seconds to run it at full speed. Was that fast enough?</p>
-
-<p>There was only one way to find out.</p>
-
-<p>He walked around the desk to the bell cord. He took a deep breath,
-tugged it savagely, and at once was in speedy motion, racing toward the
-door, his footsteps muffled in the deep, springy carpet. Almost as he
-reached it, he saw it begin to open. He quickly sidestepped and was out
-of the guard's sight, behind the door, as the man looked in.</p>
-
-<p>Quick suspicion flared in his eyes, then certainty as he saw Andrias
-huddled on the floor. He opened his mouth to cry out&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>But Duane's arm was around his throat, and he had no breath to spare.
-Duane's foot lashed out and the door slammed shut; Duane's balled left
-fist came up and connected with the guard's chin. Abruptly the man
-slumped.</p>
-
-<p>Duane took a deep breath and let the man drop to the floor. But he
-paused only a second; now he had two unconscious men on his hands and
-he dared let neither revive until he was prepared.</p>
-
-<p>He grasped the guard's arm and dragged him roughly the length of the
-room. He leaped on top of the desk, brutally scarring its gleaming top
-with the hard spikes of his boots. His agile fingers unfastened the
-long bell cord without causing it to ring and, bearing it, he dropped
-again to the floor.</p>
-
-<p>Tugging and straining, he got the limp form of Andrias into his own
-chair, bound him with the bell cord, gagged him with the priceless
-Venus-wool scarf Andrias wore knotted about his throat. He tested his
-bindings with full strength, and smiled. Those would hold, let Andrias
-struggle as he would.</p>
-
-<p>The guard he stripped of clothing, bound and gagged with his own
-belt and spaceman's kerchief. He dragged him around behind the desk,
-thrust him under it out of sight. Andrias' chair he turned so that the
-unconscious face was averted from the door. Should anyone look in,
-then, the fact of Andrias' unconsciousness might not be noticed.</p>
-
-<p>Then he took off his own clothes, quickly assumed the field-gray
-uniform of the guard. It fit like the skin of a fruit. He felt himself
-bulging out of it in a dozen places. The long cape the guard wore would
-conceal that, perhaps. In any case, there was nothing better.</p>
-
-<p>Trying to make his stride as martial as possible, he walked down the
-long carpet to the door, opened it and stepped outside.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>His luck couldn't hold out forever. It was next to miraculous that he
-got as far as he did&mdash;out of the anteroom before Andrias' office, past
-the two guards there, who eyed him absently but said nothing, down the
-great entrance hall, straight out the front door.</p>
-
-<p>Going through the city had been easier, of course. There were many men
-in uniforms like his. Duane thought, then, that Andrias' power could
-not have been too strong, even over the League police whom he nominally
-commanded. The police could not all have been corrupt. There were too
-many of them; had they been turncoats, aiding Andrias in his revolt
-against the League, there would have been no need to smuggle rifles in
-for an unruly mass of civilians.</p>
-
-<p>Duane cursed the lack of foresight of the early Earth governments.
-They'd made a prison planet of Callisto; had filled it with the worst
-scum of Earth. Then, when the damage had been done&mdash;when Callisto had
-become a pest-hole among the planets; its iniquities a stench that rose
-to the stars&mdash;they had belatedly found that they had created a problem
-worse than the one they'd tried to solve. One like a hydra-beast.</p>
-
-<p>Criminality was not a thing of heredity. The children of the
-transported convicts, most of them, were honest and wanted to be
-respectable. And they could not be.</p>
-
-<p>Earth's crime rate, too, had not been lowered materially by exiling its
-gangsters and murderers to Callisto. When it was long past time, the
-League had stepped in, and set a governor of its own over Callisto.</p>
-
-<p>If the governor had been an honest man a satisfactory solution might
-have been worked out. The first governor had been honest. Under him
-great strides had been made. The bribe-proof, gun-handy League police
-had stamped out the wide-open plague spots of the planet; public works
-had been begun on a large scale. The beginnings of representative
-government had been established.</p>
-
-<p>But the first governor had died. And the second governor had
-been&mdash;Andrias.</p>
-
-<p>"<i>You can see the results!</i>" Duane thought grimly as he swung into the
-airfield in his rented ground car. Foreboding was stamped on the faces
-of half the Callistans he'd seen&mdash;and dark treachery on the others.
-Some of those men had been among the actual exiled criminals&mdash;the last
-convict ship had landed only a dozen years before. All of those whom
-Andrias planned to arm were either of the original transportation-men,
-or their weaker descendants.</p>
-
-<p>What was holding Andrias back? Why the need for smuggling guns in?</p>
-
-<p>The answer to that, Duane thought, was encouraging but not conclusive.
-Clearly, then, Andrias did not have complete control over the League
-police. But how much control he did have, what officers he had won over
-to treachery, Duane could not begin to guess.</p>
-
-<p>Duane slid the car into a parking slot, switched off the ignition and
-left it. It was night, but the short Callistan dark period was nearly
-over. A pearly glow at the horizon showed where the sun would come
-bulging over in a few minutes; while at the opposite rim of the planet
-he could still see the blood-red disc of mighty Jupiter lingering for
-a moment, casting a crimson hue over the landscape, before it made the
-final plunge. The field was not flood-lighted. Traffic was scarce on
-Callisto.</p>
-
-<p>Duane, almost invisible in the uncertain light, stepped boldly out
-across the jet-blasted tarmac toward the huge bulk of the <i>Cameroon</i>,
-the rocket transport which had brought him. Two other ships lay on the
-same seared pavement, but they were smaller. They were fighting ships,
-small, speedy ones, in Callisto for refueling before returning to the
-League's ceaseless patrol of the System's starlanes.</p>
-
-<p>Duane hesitated briefly, wondering whether he ought to go to one of
-those ships and tell his story to its League commander. He decided
-against it. There was too little certainty for him there; too much risk
-that the commander, even, might be a tool of Andrias'.</p>
-
-<p>Duane shook his head angrily. If only his memory were clear&mdash;if only he
-could be sure what he was doing!</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>He reached the portal of the ship. A gray-clad League officer was there
-standing guard, to prevent the ship taking off.</p>
-
-<p>"Official business," Duane said curtly, and swept by the startled
-man before he could object. He hurried along the corridor toward the
-captain's office and control room. A purser he passed looked at him
-curiously, and Duane averted his face. If the man recognized him there
-might be questions.</p>
-
-<p>For the thousandth time he cursed the gray cloud that overhung his
-memory. He didn't know, even, who among the crew might know him and
-spread the alarm.</p>
-
-<p>Then he was at the door marked, <i>Crew only&mdash;do not enter!</i> He tapped on
-it, then grasped the knob and swung it open.</p>
-
-<p>A squat, open-featured man in blue, the bronze eagles of the Mercantile
-Service resting lightly on his powerful shoulders, looked at him.
-Recognition flared in his eyes.</p>
-
-<p>"Duane!" he whispered. "Peter Duane, what're you doing in the clothes
-of Andrias' household guard?"</p>
-
-<p>Duane felt the tenseness ebb out of his throat. Here was a friend.</p>
-
-<p>"Captain," he said, "you seem to be a friend of mine. If you are&mdash;I
-need you. You see, I've lost my memory."</p>
-
-<p>"Lost your memory?" the captain echoed. "You mean that blow on your
-head? The ship's surgeon said something ... yes, that was it. I hardly
-believed him, though."</p>
-
-<p>"But were we friends?"</p>
-
-<p>"Why, yes, Peter."</p>
-
-<p>"Then help me now," said Duane. "I have a cargo stowed in your hold,
-Captain. Do you know what it is?"</p>
-
-<p>"Why&mdash;yes. The rifles, you mean?"</p>
-
-<p>Duane blinked. He nodded, then looked dizzily for a chair. The captain
-was a friend of his, all right&mdash;a fellow gun-runner!</p>
-
-<p>"Good God," he said aloud. "What a mess!"</p>
-
-<p>"What's happened?" the captain asked. "I saw you in the corridor,
-arguing with Stevens. You looked like trouble, and I should have
-come up to you then. But the course was to be changed, and I had to
-be there.... And the next I hear, Stevens is dead, and you've maybe
-killed him. Then I heard you've lost your memory, and are in a jam with
-Andrias."</p>
-
-<p>He paused and speculation came into his eyes, almost hostility.</p>
-
-<p>"Peter Duane," he said softly, "it strikes me that you may have lost
-more than your memory. Which side are you on. What happened between
-you and Andrias? Tell me now if you've changed sides on me, man. For
-friendship's sake I won't be too hard on you. But there's too much at
-stake here&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>"Oh, hell," said Peter, and the heat gun was suddenly in his hand,
-leveled at the squat man in blue. "I wish you were on my side, but
-there's no way I can tell. I can trust myself, I think&mdash;but that's all.
-Put up your hands!"</p>
-
-<p>And that was when his luck ran out.</p>
-
-<p>"Peter&mdash;" the captain began.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ph1">IV</p>
-
-<p>But a sound from outside halted him. Together the two men stared at the
-viewplates. A siren had begun to shriek in the distance, the siren of a
-racing ground car. Through the gates it plunged, scattering the light
-wooden barrier. It spun crazily around on two wheels and came roaring
-for the ship.</p>
-
-<p>Andrias was in it.</p>
-
-<p>Peter turned on the captain, and the gun was rigidly outthrust in his
-hand.</p>
-
-<p>"Close your ports!" he snarled. "Up rockets&mdash;in a hurry!"</p>
-
-<p>"Listen, Peter," the captain began.</p>
-
-<p>"I said, hurry!" The car's brakes shrieked outside, and it disappeared
-from the view of the men. There was an abrupt babble of voices.</p>
-
-<p>"Close your ports!" Peter shouted savagely. "Now!"</p>
-
-<p>The captain opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He touched
-the stud of a communications set, said into it, "Close ports. Snap to
-it. Engine room&mdash;up rockets in ten seconds. All crew&mdash;stand by for
-lift!"</p>
-
-<p>The ship's own take-off siren howled shrilly, drowning out the angry
-voices from below. Peter felt the whine of the electrics that dogged
-shut the heavy pressure doors. He stepped to the pilot's chair, slid
-into it, buckled the compression straps around him.</p>
-
-<p>The instruments&mdash;he recognized them all, knew how to use them! Had he
-been a rocket pilot before his mind had blanked&mdash;before embarking on
-the more lucrative profession of gun smuggler? He wondered....</p>
-
-<p>But it was the captain who took the ship off. "Ten seconds," Peter
-said. "Get moving!"</p>
-
-<p>The captain hesitated the barest fraction, but his eyes were on the
-heat gun and he knew that Duane was capable of using it. "The men&mdash;" he
-said. "If they're underneath when the jets go, they'll burn!"</p>
-
-<p>"That's the chance they take," said Duane. "They heard the siren!"</p>
-
-<p>The captain turned his head quickly, and his fingers flashed out.
-He was in his own acceleration seat too, laced down by heavy canvas
-webbing. His hands reached out to the controls before him, and his
-fingers took on a life of their own as they wove dexterously across the
-keys, setting up fire-patterns, charting a course of take-off. Then the
-heel of his hand settled on the firing stop....</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>The acceleration was worse than Peter's clouded mind had expected,
-but no more than he could stand. In his frame of mind, he could stand
-almost anything, he thought&mdash;short of instant annihilation!</p>
-
-<p>The thin air of Callisto howled past them, forming a high obligato to
-the thunder of the jets. Then the air-howl faded sharply to silence,
-and the booming of the rockets became less a thing of sound than a
-rumble in the framework of the <i>Cameroon</i>. They were in space.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
- <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="304" height="500" alt=""/>
- <div class="caption">
- <p><i>The Cameroon blasted from its cradle, racing Andrias'
-ships for open space.</i></p>
- </div>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>The captain's foot kicked the pedal that shut off the over-drive jets,
-reducing the thrust to a mere one-gravity acceleration. He turned to
-Duane.</p>
-
-<p>"What now?" he asked.</p>
-
-<p>Duane, busy unstrapping himself from the restraining belts, shook his
-head without answering. What now? "<i>A damn good question!</i>" he thought.</p>
-
-<p>The captain, with the ease of long practice, was already out of his own
-pressure straps. He stood there by his chair, watching Duane closely.
-But the gun was still in Duane's hand, despite his preoccupation.</p>
-
-<p>Duane cocked an ear as he threw off the last strap. Did he hear voices
-in the corridor, a distance away but coming.</p>
-
-<p>The captain, looking out the port with considerable interest,
-interrupted his train of thought. "What," he asked, "for instance, are
-you going to do about&mdash;those?"</p>
-
-<p>His arm was outstretched, pointing outward and down. Duane looked in
-that direction&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>The two patrol rockets were streaking up after his commandeered ship.
-Fairy-like in their pastel shades, with the delicate tracery of girders
-over their fighting noses, they nevertheless represented grim menace to
-Duane!</p>
-
-<p>He swore under his breath. The <i>Cameroon</i>, huge and lumbering, was
-helpless as a sitting bird before those lithe hawks of prey. If only he
-knew which side the ships were on. If only he knew&mdash;anything!</p>
-
-<p>He couldn't afford to take a chance. "Stand back!" he ordered the
-captain. The man in blue gave ground before him, staring wonderingly as
-Duane advanced. Duane took a quick look at the control set-up, tried to
-remember how to work it.</p>
-
-<p>It was so tantalizingly close to his memory! He cursed again; then
-stabbed down on a dozen keys at random, heeled the main control down,
-jumped back, even as the ship careened madly about in its flight, and
-blasted the delicate controls to shattered ashes with a bolt from his
-heat gun. Now the ship was crippled, for the time being at least. Short
-of a nigh-impossible boarding in space, the two patrol cruisers could
-do nothing with it till the controls were repaired. The <i>Cameroon</i>, and
-its cargo of political dynamite, would circle through space for hours
-or days.</p>
-
-<p>It wasn't much&mdash;but it was the best he could do. At least it would give
-him time to think things over.</p>
-
-<p>No. He heard the voices of the men in the corridor again, tumbled about
-by the abrupt course change&mdash;luckily, it had been only a mild thing
-compared to the one that had killed Stevens and caused his own present
-dilemma&mdash;but regaining their feet and coming on. And one of the voices,
-loud and harsh, was Andrias! Somehow, before the ports closed, he'd
-managed to board the <i>Cameroon</i>!</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>Duane stood erect, whirled to face the door. The captain stood by it.
-Duane thrust his heat gun at him.</p>
-
-<p>"The door!" he commanded. "Lock it!"</p>
-
-<p>Urged by the menace of the heat gun, the captain hurriedly put out a
-hand to the lock of the door&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>And jerked it back, nursing smashed knuckles, as Andrias and four men
-burst in, hurling the door open before them. They came to a sliding,
-tumbling halt, though, as they faced grim Duane and his ready heat
-pistol.</p>
-
-<p>"Hold it!" he ordered. "That's right.... Stay that way while I figure
-things out. The first man that moves, dies for it."</p>
-
-<p>Dark blood flooded into Andrias' face, but he said no word, only
-stood there glaring hatred. The smear of crimson had been brushed
-from his face, but his nose was still awry and a huge purplish bruise
-was spreading over it and across one cheek. The three men with him
-were guards. All were armed&mdash;the police with hand weapons as lethal
-as Duane's own, Andrias with an old-style projective-type weapon&mdash;an
-ancient pistol, snatched from some bewildered spaceman as they burst
-into the <i>Cameroon</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Duane braced himself with one arm against the pilot's chair and stared
-at them. The crazy circular course the blasted controls had given the
-ship had a strong lateral component; around and around the ship went,
-in a screaming circle, chasing its own tail. There was a sudden change
-in the light from the port outside; Duane involuntarily looked up for a
-moment. Dulled and purplish was the gleam from the brilliant stars all
-about; the <i>Cameroon</i>, in its locked orbit, had completed a circle and
-was plunging through its own wake of expelled jet-gases. He saw the two
-patrol rockets streak past; then saw the flood of rocket-flares from
-their side jets as they spun and braked, trying to match course and
-speed with the crazy orbit of the <i>Cameroon</i>.</p>
-
-<p>He'd looked away for only a second; abruptly he looked back.</p>
-
-<p>"Easy!" he snapped. Andrias' arm, which had begun to lift, straightened
-out, and the scowl on the governor's face darkened even more.</p>
-
-<p><i>Clackety-clack.</i> There was the sound of a girl's high heels running
-along the corridor, followed by heavier thumps from the space boots of
-men. Duane jerked his gun at Andrias and his police.</p>
-
-<p>"Out of the way!" he said. "Let's see who's coming now."</p>
-
-<p>It was the girl. Red hair fluttering in the wake of her running, face
-alight with anxiety, she burst into the room.</p>
-
-<p>"Peter!" she cried. "Andrias and his men&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>She stopped short and took in the tableau. Duane's eyes were on her,
-and he was about to speak. Then he became conscious of something in her
-own eyes, a sudden spark that flared even before her lips opened and a
-thin cry came from them; even before she leaped to one side, at Andrias.</p>
-
-<p>Peter cursed and tried to turn, to dodge; tried to bring his heat gun
-around. But a thunder louder than the bellowing jets outside filled the
-room, and a streak of livid fire crossed the fringe of Peter's brain.
-Sudden blackness closed in around him. He fell&mdash;and his closing eyes
-saw new figures running into the room, saw the counterplay of lashing
-heat beams.</p>
-
-<p><i>This is it</i>&mdash;he thought grimly, and then thought no more.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ph1">IV</p>
-
-<p>Duane was in the sickbay again, on the same bed. His head was spinning
-agonizedly. He forced his eyes open&mdash;and the girl was there; the same
-girl. She was watching him. A cloud on her face lifted as she saw his
-lids flicker open; then it descended again. Her lips quivered.</p>
-
-<p>"Darn you, Peter," she whispered. "Who are you now?"</p>
-
-<p>"Why&mdash;why, I'm Peter Duane, of course," he said.</p>
-
-<p>"Well, thank God you know that!" It was the captain. He'd changed since
-the last time Peter had seen him. One arm was slung in bandages that
-bore the yellow seeping tint of burn salve.</p>
-
-<p>Peter shook his head to try to clear it. "Where&mdash;where am I?" he asked.
-"Andrias&mdash;"</p>
-
-<p>"Andrias is where he won't bother you," the captain said. "Locked up
-below. So are two of his men. The other one's dead. How's your memory,
-Peter?"</p>
-
-<p>Duane touched it experimentally with a questing mental finger. It
-seemed all right, though he felt still dazed.</p>
-
-<p>"Coming along," he said. "But where am I? The controls&mdash;I blasted them."</p>
-
-<p>The captain laughed. "I know," he said briefly. "Well&mdash;I guess you had
-to, in a way. You didn't trust anyone; couldn't trust anyone. You had
-to make sure the rifles wouldn't get back to Callisto too soon. But
-they're working on installing duplicates now, Peter. In an hour we'll
-be back on Callisto. We shut the jets off already; we're in an orbit."</p>
-
-<p>Duane sank back. "Listen," he said. "I think&mdash;I think my memory's
-clearing, somehow. But how&mdash;I mean, were you on my side? All along?"</p>
-
-<p>The captain nodded soberly. "On your side, yes, Peter," he said. "The
-League's side, that is. You and I, you know, both work for the League.
-When they got word of Andrias' plans, they had to work fast. To move
-in by force would have meant bloodshed, would have forced his hand.
-That would have been utterly bad. It was too dangerous. Callisto is
-politically a powder-keg already. The whole thing might have exploded."</p>
-
-<p>Peter's eyes flared with sudden hope and enlightment. "And you and I&mdash;"
-he began.</p>
-
-<p>"You and I, and a couple of other undercover workers were put on the
-job," the captain nodded. "We had to find out who Andrias' supporters
-were&mdash;and to keep him from getting more electron rifles while the
-commanders of the Callisto garrison were quietly checked, to see who
-was on which side. They've found Andrias' Earth backers&mdash;a group of
-wealthy malcontents who thought Callisto should be exploited for their
-gain, had made secret deals with him for concessions. You, of course,
-slowed down the delivery of the rifles as long as you could. They lay
-in the Lunar warehouses a precious extra week while you haggled over
-terms. That's what you were doing with Stevens, I think, when the
-course change caught you both."</p>
-
-<p>"You've had him long enough," the nurse broke in. "I have a few words
-to say."</p>
-
-<p>"No, wait&mdash;" Duane protested. But the captain was grinning broadly. He
-moved toward the door.</p>
-
-<p>"Later," he said over his shoulder. "There'll be plenty of time." The
-door closed behind him. Duane turned to the girl.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>He shook his head again. The cloud was lifting. He could almost
-remember everything again; things were beginning to come into focus.
-This girl, for instance&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>She noticed his motion. "How's your head, Peter?" she asked
-solicitously. "Andrias hit you with that awful old bullet-gun. I tried
-to stop him, but all I could do was jar his arm. Oh, Peter, I was so
-afraid when I saw you fall!"</p>
-
-<p>"You probably saved my life," Peter said soberly. "Andrias struck me as
-a pretty good shot." He tried to grin.</p>
-
-<p>The girl frowned. "Peter," she said, "I'm sorry if I seemed rude,
-before&mdash;the last time you were here. It was just that I.... Well, you
-didn't remember me. I couldn't understand."</p>
-
-<p>Peter stared at her. Yes&mdash;he <i>should</i> remember her. He did, only&mdash;</p>
-
-<p>"Perhaps this will help you," the girl said. She rummaged in a pocket
-of her uniform, brought something out that was tiny and glittering. "I
-don't wear it on duty, Peter. But I guess this is an exception...."</p>
-
-<p>Peter pushed himself up on one elbow, trying to make out what she was
-doing. She was slipping the small thing on a finger....</p>
-
-<p>A ring. An engagement ring!</p>
-
-<p>"Oh&mdash;" said Peter. And suddenly everything clicked; he remembered; he
-could recall ... everything. That second blow on his head had undone
-the harm of the first one.</p>
-
-<p>He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, reached out
-hungry arms for the girl.</p>
-
-<p>"Of course I remember," he said as she came into the circle of his
-arms. "The ring on your finger. I ought to remember&mdash;<i>I put it there!</i>"</p>
-
-<p>And for a long time after there was no need for words.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p class="ph1">[Transcriber's Note: There were two Section IV headings in original text.]</p>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Conspiracy on Callisto, by James MacCreigh
-
-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
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-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-Title: Conspiracy on Callisto
-
-Author: James MacCreigh
-
-Release Date: June 25, 2020 [EBook #62476]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ASCII
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONSPIRACY ON CALLISTO ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
-Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
-
-
-
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-
-
-
-
-
- Conspiracy on Callisto
-
- By JAMES MacCREIGH
-
- Revolt was flaring on Callisto, and Peter Duane
- held the secret that would make the uprising a
- success or failure. Yet he could make no move,
- could favor no side--his memory was gone--he
- didn't know for whom he fought.
-
- [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
- Planet Stories Winter 1943.
- Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
- the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-Duane's hand flicked to his waist and hung there, poised. His dis-gun
-remained undrawn.
-
-The tall, white-haired man--Stevens--smiled.
-
-"You're right, Duane," he said. "I could blast you, too. Nobody would
-win that way, so let's leave the guns where they are."
-
-The muscles twitched in Peter Duane's cheeks, but his voice, when it
-came, was controlled. "Don't think we're going to let this go," he
-said. "We'll take it up with Andrias tonight. We'll see whether you can
-cut me out!"
-
-The white-haired man's smile faded. He stepped forward, one hand
-bracing him against the thrust of the rocket engines underneath,
-holding to the guide rail at the side of the ship's corridor.
-
-He said, "Duane, Andrias is your boss, not mine. I'm a free lance; I
-work for myself. When we land on Callisto tonight I'll be with you when
-you turn our--shall I say, our _cargo_?--over to him. And I'll collect
-my fair share of the proceeds. That's as far as it goes. I take no
-orders from him."
-
-A heavy-set man in blue appeared at the end of the connecting corridor.
-He was moving fast, but stopped short when he saw the two men.
-
-"Hey!" he said. "Change of course--get to your cabins." He seemed about
-to walk up to them, then reconsidered and hurried off. Neither man paid
-any attention.
-
-Duane said, "Do I have to kill you?" It was only a question as he asked
-it, without threatening.
-
-A muted alarm bell sounded through the P.A. speakers, signaling a
-one-minute warning. The white-haired man cocked his eyebrow.
-
-"Not at all," he said. He took the measure of his slim, red-headed
-opponent. Taller, heavier, older, he was still no more uncompromisingly
-belligerent than Duane, standing there. "Not at all," he repeated.
-"Just take your ten thousand and let it go at that. Don't make trouble.
-Leave Andrias out of our private argument."
-
-"Damn you!" Duane flared. "I was promised fifty thousand. I need that
-money. Do you think--"
-
-"Forget what I think," Stevens said, his voice clipped and angry. "I
-don't care about fairness, Duane, except to myself. I've done all the
-work on this--I've supplied the goods. My price is set, a hundred
-thousand Earth dollars. What Andrias promised you is no concern of
-mine. The fact is that, after I've taken my share, there's only ten
-thousand left. That's all you get!"
-
-Duane stared at him a long second, then nodded abruptly. "I was right
-the first time," he said. "I'll _have_ to kill you!"
-
- * * * * *
-
-Already his hand was streaking toward the grip of his dis-gun, touching
-it, drawing it forth. But the white-haired man was faster. His arms
-swept up and pinioned Duane, holding him impotent.
-
-"Don't be a fool," he grated. "Duane--"
-
-The P.A. speaker rattled, blared something unintelligible. Neither man
-heard it. Duane lunged forward into the taller man's grip, sliding down
-to the floor. The white-haired man grappled furiously to keep his hold
-on Peter's gun arm, but Peter was slipping away. Belatedly, Stevens
-went for his own gun.
-
-He was too late. Duane's was out and leveled at him.
-
-"_Now_ will you listen to reason?" Duane panted. But he halted, and the
-muzzle of his weapon wavered. The floor swooped and surged beneath him
-as the thrust of the mighty jets was cut off. Suddenly there was no
-gravity. The two men, locked together, floated weightlessly out to the
-center of the corridor.
-
-"Course change!" gasped white-haired Stevens. "Good God!"
-
-The ship had reached the midpoint of its flight. The bells had sounded,
-warning every soul on it to take shelter, to strap themselves in their
-pressure bunks against the deadly stress of acceleration as the ship
-reversed itself and began to slow its headlong plunge into Callisto.
-But the two men had not heeded.
-
-The small steering rockets flashed briefly. The men were thrust
-bruisingly against the side of the corridor as the rocket spun lazily
-on its axis. The side jets flared once more to halt the spin, when the
-one-eighty turn was completed, and the men were battered against the
-opposite wall, still weightless, still clinging to each other, still
-struggling.
-
-Then the main-drive bellowed into life again, and the ship began to
-battle against its own built-up acceleration. The corridor floor rose
-up with blinking speed to smite them--
-
-And the lights went out in a burst of crashing pain for Peter Duane.
-
- * * * * *
-
-Someone was talking to him. Duane tried to force an eye open to see who
-it was, and failed. Something damp and clinging was all about his face,
-obscuring his vision. But the voice filtered in.
-
-"Open your mouth," it said. "Please, Peter, open your mouth. You're all
-right. Just swallow this."
-
-It was a girl's voice. Duane was suddenly conscious that a girl's light
-hand was on his shoulder. He shook his head feebly.
-
-The voice became more insistent. "Swallow this," it said. "It's only a
-stimulant, to help you throw off the shock of your--accident. You're
-all right, otherwise."
-
-Obediently he opened his mouth, and choked on a warm, tingly liquid.
-He managed to swallow it, and lay quiet as deft feminine hands did
-something to his face. Suddenly light filtered through his closed
-eyelids, and cool air stirred against his damp face.
-
-He opened his eyes. A slight red-headed girl in white nurse's uniform
-was standing there. She stepped back a pace, a web of wet gauze bandage
-in her hands, looking at him.
-
-"Hello," he whispered. "You--where am I?"
-
-"In the sick bay," she said. "You got caught out when the ship changed
-course. Lucky you weren't hurt, Peter. The man you were with--the old,
-white-haired one, Stevens--wasn't so lucky. He was underneath when the
-jets went on. Three ribs broken--his lung was punctured. He died in the
-other room an hour ago."
-
-Duane screwed his eyes tight together and grimaced. When he opened
-them again there was alertness and clarity in them--but there was also
-bafflement.
-
-"Girl," he said, "who are you? Where am I?"
-
-"Peter!" There was shock and hurt in the tone of her voice. "I'm--don't
-you know me, Peter?"
-
-Duane shook his head confusedly. "I don't know anything," he said.
-"I--I don't even know my own name."
-
-"Duane, Duane," a man's heavy voice said. "That won't wash. Don't play
-dumb on me."
-
-"Duane?" he said. "Duane...." He swiveled his head and saw a dark,
-squat man frowning at him. "Who are you?" Peter asked.
-
-The dark man laughed. "Take your time, Duane," he said easily. "You'll
-remember me. My name's Andrias. I've been waiting here for you to wake
-up. We have some business matters to discuss."
-
-The nurse, still eyeing Duane with an odd bewilderment, said: "I'll
-leave you alone for a moment. Don't talk too much to him, Mr. Andrias.
-He's still suffering from shock."
-
-"I won't," Andrias promised, grinning. Then, as the girl left the room,
-the smile dropped from his face.
-
-"You play rough, Duane," he observed. "I thought you'd have trouble
-with Stevens. I didn't think you'd find it necessary to put him out of
-the way so permanently. Well, no matter. If you had to kill him, it's
-no skin off my nose. Give me a release on the merchandise. I've got
-your money here."
-
- * * * * *
-
-Duane waved a hand and pushed himself dizzily erect, swinging his legs
-over the side of the high cot. A sheet had been thrown over him, but he
-was fully dressed. He examined his clothing with interest--gray tunic,
-gray leather spaceman's boots. It was unfamiliar.
-
-He shook his head in further confusion, and the motion burst within his
-skull, throbbing hotly. He closed his eyes until it subsided, trying to
-force his brain to operate, to explain to him where and what he was.
-
-He looked at the man named Andrias.
-
-"Nobody seems to believe me," he said, "but I really don't know what's
-going on. Things are moving too fast for me. Really, I--why, I don't
-even know my own name! My head--it hurts. I can't think clearly."
-
-Andrias straightened, turned a darkly-suspicious look on Duane. "Don't
-play tricks on me," he said savagely. "I haven't time for them. I won't
-mince words with you. Give me a release on the cargo now, before I have
-to get rough. This is a lot more important to me than your life is."
-
-"Go to hell," Duane said shortly. "I'm playing no tricks."
-
-There was an instant's doubt in Andrias' eyes, then it flashed away. He
-bent closer, peered at Duane. "I almost think--" he began.
-
-Then he shook his head. "No," he said. "You're lying all right. You
-killed Stevens to get his share--and now you're trying to hold me up.
-That's your last chance that just went by, Duane. From now on, I'm
-running this show!"
-
-He spun around and strode to the door, thrust it open. "Dakin!" he
-bellowed. "Reed!"
-
-Two large, ugly men in field-gray uniforms, emblazoned with the
-shooting-star insignia of Callisto's League police, came in, looking to
-Andrias for instructions.
-
-"Duane here is resisting arrest," Andrias said. "Take him along. We'll
-fix up the charges later."
-
-"You can't do that," Duane said wearily. "I'm sick. If you've got
-something against me, save it. Wait till my head clears. I'm sure I can
-explain--"
-
-"Explain, hell." The dark man laughed. "If I wait, this ship will be
-blasting off for Ganymede within two hours. I'll wait--but so will the
-ship. It's not going anywhere till I give it clearance. I run Callisto;
-I'll give the orders here!"
-
-
- II
-
-Whoever this man Andrias was, thought Duane, he was certainly a man of
-importance on Callisto. As he had said, _he_ gave the orders.
-
-The crew of the rocket made no objection when Andrias and his men took
-Duane off without a word. Duane had thought the nurse, who seemed a
-good enough sort, might have said something on his behalf. But she was
-out of sight as they left. A curt sentence to a gray-clad official on
-the blast field where the rocket lay, and the man nodded and hurried
-off, to tell the rocket's captain that the ship was being refused
-clearance indefinitely.
-
-A long, powerful ground car slid up before them. Andrias got in front,
-while the two uniformed men shoved Duane into the back of the car,
-climbed in beside him. Andrias gave a curt order, and the car shot
-forward.
-
-The driver, sitting beside Andrias, leaned forward and readied a hand
-under the dashboard. The high wail of a siren came instantly from the
-car's roof, and what traffic was on the broad, straight highway into
-which they had turned pulled aside to let them race through.
-
-Ahead lay the tall spires of a city. Graceful, hundreds of feet high,
-they seemed dreamlike yet somehow oddly familiar to Duane. Somewhere
-he had seen them before. He dragged deep into his mind, plumbing the
-cloudy, impenetrable haze that had settled on it, trying to bring forth
-the memories that he should have had. Amnesia, they called it; complete
-forgetting of the happenings of a lifetime. He'd heard of it--but never
-dreamed it could happen to him!
-
-_My name, it seems, is Peter Duane_, he thought. _And they tell me that
-I killed a man!_
-
-The thought was starkly incredible to him. A white-haired man, it had
-been; someone named Stevens. He tried to remember.
-
-Yes, there had been a white-haired man. And there had been an argument.
-Something to do with money, with a shipment of goods that Stevens had
-supplied to Duane. There has even been talk of killing....
-
-But--murder! Duane looked at his hands helplessly.
-
-Andrias, up ahead, was turning around. He looked sharply at Duane, for
-a long second. An uncertainty clouded his eyes, and abruptly he looked
-forward again without speaking.
-
-"Who's this man Andrias?" Duane whispered to the nearest guard.
-
-The man stared at him. "Governor Andrias," he said, "is the League's
-deputy on Callisto. You know--the Earth-Mars League. They put Governor
-Andrias here to--well, to govern for them."
-
-"League?" Duane asked, wrinkling his brow. He had heard something about
-a League once, yes. But it was all so nebulous....
-
-The other guard stirred, leaned over. "Shut up," he said heavily.
-"You'll have plenty of chance for talking later."
-
- * * * * *
-
-But the chance was a long time in coming. Duane found himself, an hour
-later, still in the barred room into which he'd been thrust. The guards
-had brought him there, at Andrias' order, and left him. That had been
-all.
-
-This was not a regular jail, Duane realized. It was more like a
-palace, something out of Earth's Roman-empire days, all white stone
-and frescoed walls. Duane wished for human companionship--particularly
-that of the nurse. Of all the people he'd met since awakening in that
-hospital bed, only she seemed warm and human. The others were--brutal,
-deadly. It was too bad, Duane reflected, that he'd failed to remember
-her. She'd seemed hurt, and she had certainly known him by first name.
-But perhaps she would understand.
-
-Duane sat down on a lumpy, sagging bed and buried his head in his
-hands. Dim ghosts of memory were wandering in his mind. He tried to
-conjure them into stronger relief, or to exorcise them entirely.
-
-Somewhere, some time, a man had said to him, "_Andrias is secretly
-arming the Callistan cutthroats for revolt against the League. He wants
-personal power--he's prepared to pay any price for it. He needs guns,
-Earth guns smuggled in through the League patrol. If he can wipe out
-the League police garrison--those who are loyal to the League, still,
-instead of to Andrias--he can sit back and laugh at any fleet Earth and
-Mars can send. Rockets are clumsy in an atmosphere. They're helpless.
-And if he can arm enough of Callisto's rabble, he can't be stopped.
-That's why he'll pay for electron rifles with their weight in gold._"
-
-Duane could remember the scene clearly. Could almost see the sharp,
-aquiline face of the man who had spoken to him. But there memory
-stopped.
-
-A fugitive recollection raced through his mind. He halted it, dragged
-it back, pinned it down....
-
-They had stopped in Darkside, the spaceport on the side of Luna that
-keeps perpetually averted from Earth, as if the moon knows shame and
-wants to hide the rough and roaring dome city that nestles in one
-of the great craters. Duane remembered sitting in a low-ceilinged,
-smoke-heavy room, across the table from a tall man with white hair.
-Stevens!
-
-"_Four thousand electron rifles_," the man had said. "_Latest
-government issue. Never mind how I got them; they're perfect. You know
-my price. Take it or leave it. And it's payable the minute we touch
-ground on Callisto._"
-
-There had been a few minutes of haggling over terms, then a handshake
-and a drink from a thin-necked flagon of pale-yellow liquid fire.
-
-He and the white-haired man had gone out then, made their way by
-unfrequented side streets to a great windowless building. Duane
-remembered the white-hot stars overhead, shining piercingly through
-the great transparent dome that kept the air in the sealed city of
-Darkside, as they stood at the entrance of the warehouse and spoke in
-low tones to the man who answered their summons.
-
-Then, inside. And they were looking at a huge chamber full of stacked
-fiber boxes--containing nothing but dehydrated dairy products and
-mining tools, by the stencils they bore. Duane had turned to the
-white-haired man with a puzzled question--and the man had laughed aloud.
-
-He dragged one of the boxes down, ripped it open with the sharp point
-of a handling hook. Short-barreled, flare-mouthed guns rolled out,
-tumbling over the floor. Eight of them were in that one box, and
-hundreds of boxes all about. Duane picked one up, broke it, peered into
-the chamber where the tiny capsule of U-235 would explode with infinite
-violence when the trigger was pulled, spraying radiant death three
-thousand yards in the direction the gun was aimed....
-
-And that memory ended.
-
-Duane got up, stared at his haggard face in the cracked mirror over
-the bed. "_They say I'm a killer_," he thought. "_Apparently I'm a
-gun-runner as well. Good lord--what am I not?_"
-
-His reflection--white, drawn face made all the more pallid by the red
-hair that blazed over it--stared back at him. There was no answer
-there. If only he could remember--
-
-"All right, Duane." The deep voice of a guard came to him as the door
-swung open. "Stop making eyes at yourself."
-
-Duane looked around. The guard beckoned. "Governor Andrias wants to
-speak to you--now. Let's not keep the governor waiting."
-
- * * * * *
-
-A long, narrow room, with a long carpet leading from the entrance up to
-a great heavy desk--that was Andrias' office. Duane felt a click in his
-memory as he entered. One of the ancient Earth dictators had employed
-just such a psychological trick to overawe those who came to beg favors
-of him. Muslini, or some such name.
-
-The trick failed to work. Duane had other things on his mind; he walked
-the thirty-foot length of the room, designed to imbue him with a sense
-of his own unimportance, as steadily as he'd ever walked in the open
-air of his home planet.
-
-Whichever planet that was.
-
-The guard had remained just inside the door, at attention. Andrias
-waved him out.
-
-"Here I am," said Duane. "What do you want?"
-
-Andrias said, "I've had the ship inspected and what I want is on it.
-That saves your life, for now. But the cargo is in your name. I could
-take it by force, if I had to. I prefer not to." He picked up a paper,
-handed it to Duane. "In spite of your behavior, you can keep alive.
-You can even collect the money for the guns--Stevens' share as well
-as your own. This is a release form, authorizing my men to take four
-hundred and twenty cases of dehydrated foods and drilling supplies from
-the hold of the _Cameroon_--the ship you came on. Sign it, and we'll
-forget our argument. Only, sign it now and get it over with. I'm losing
-patience, Duane."
-
-Duane said, without expression, "No."
-
-Dark red flooded into Andrias' sallow face. His jaws bunched angrily
-and there was a ragged thread of incomplete control to his voice as he
-spoke.
-
-"I'll have your neck for this, Duane," he said softly.
-
-Duane looked at the man's eyes. Death was behind them, peeping out.
-Mentally he shrugged. What difference did it make?
-
-"Give me the pen," he said shortly.
-
-Andrias exhaled a deep breath. You could see the tension leave him, the
-mottled anger fade from his face and leave it without expression. He
-handed the paper to Duane without a word. He gave him a pen, watched
-him scrawl his name.
-
-"That," he said, "is better." He paused a moment ruminatively. "It
-would have been better still if you'd not stalled me so long. I find
-that hard to forgive in my associates."
-
-"The money," Peter said. If he were playing a part--pretending he knew
-what he was doing--he might as well play it to the hilt. "When do I get
-it?"
-
-Andrias picked up the paper and looked carefully at the signature. He
-creased it thoughtfully, stowed it in a pocket before answering.
-
-"Naturally," he said, "there will have to be a revision of terms. I
-offered a hundred and ten thousand Earth-dollars. I would have paid
-it--but you made me angry. You'll have to pay for that."
-
- * * * * *
-
-Duane said, "I've paid already. I've been dragged from pillar to post
-by you. That's enough. Pay me what you owe me, if you want any more of
-the same goods!"
-
-That was a shot in the dark--and it missed the mark.
-
-Andrias' eyes widened. "You amaze me, Duane," he said. He rose and
-stepped around the desk, confronting Duane. "I almost think you really
-have lost your memory, Duane," he said. "Otherwise, surely you would
-know that this is all the rifles I need. With them I'll _take_ whatever
-else I want!"
-
-Duane said, "You're ready, then...."
-
-He took time to think it over, but he knew that no thought was
-required. Already the hands that he had locked behind him were
-clenched, taut. Already the muscles of his legs were tensing.
-
-"You're ready," he repeated. "You've armed the Callistan exiles--the
-worst gutter scum on nine planets. You're set to betray the League that
-gave you power here.... Well, that changes things. I can't let you do
-it!"
-
-He hurled himself at Andrias, hands sweeping around to grapple for the
-dark man's throat. Andrias, off-balance, staggered backward. But his
-own hands were diving for the twin heat guns that hung at his waist.
-
-Duane saw his danger, and reacted. His foot twisted around Andrias'
-ankle; his hands at the other's throat gripped tighter. He lunged
-forward, slamming the hard top of his head into the other's face,
-feeling flesh and cartilage give as Andrias' nose mashed flat. His own
-head pin-wheeled dizzily, agonizingly, as the jar revived the pain of
-his earlier accident.
-
-But Andrias, unconscious already, tumbled back with Duane on top of
-him. His head made an audible, spine-chilling thud as it hit the
-carpeted floor.
-
-Duane got up, retrieving the two heat guns, and stared at him.
-
-"_They tell me I killed Stevens the same way_," he thought. "_I'm
-getting in a rut!_"
-
-But Andrias was not dead, though he was out as cold as the void beyond
-Pluto. The thick carpeting had saved him from a broken head.
-
-Duane stepped over the unconscious man and looked around the room. It
-was furnished severely, to the point of barrenness. Two chairs before
-Andrias' ornate, bare-topped desk and one luxurious chair behind it;
-a tasseled bell cord within easy reach of Andrias' chair; the long
-carpet. That was all it contained.
-
-The problem of getting out was serious, he saw. How could one--
-
-
- III
-
-Methodically he ransacked the drawers of Andrias' desk. Papers, a
-whole arsenal of hand guns, Callistan money by the bale, ominously
-black-covered notebooks with cryptic figures littering their
-pages--those were the contents. A coldly impersonal desk, without the
-familiar trivia most men accumulate. There was nothing, certainly, that
-would get him out of a building that so closely resembled a fortress.
-
-He tumbled the things back into the drawers helter-skelter, turned
-Andrias over and searched his pockets. More money--the man must have
-had a fortune within reach at all times--and a few meaningless papers.
-Duane took the release he had signed and tore it to shreds. But that
-was only a gesture. When Andrias came to, unless Duane had managed to
-get away and accomplish something, the mere lack of written permission
-would not keep him from the rocket's lethal cargo!
-
-When Andrias came to....
-
-An idea bloomed in Duane's brain. He looked, then, at unconscious
-Andrias--and the idea withered again.
-
-He had thought of forcing Andrias himself to front for him, at gun's
-point, in the conventional manner of escaping prisoners. But fist
-fights, fiction to the contrary notwithstanding, leave marks on the men
-who lose them. Andrias' throat was speckled with the livid marks of
-Duane's fingers; Duane's head, butting Andrias in the face, had drawn a
-thick stream of crimson from his nostrils, turned his sharp nose askew.
-
-No guard of Andrias' would have been deceived for an instant, looking
-at that face--even assuming that Andrias could have been forced to
-cooperate by the threat of a gun. Which, considering the stake Andrias
-had in this play, was doubtful....
-
-He stood up and looked around. He had to act quickly. Already Andrias'
-breath was audible; he saw the man grimace and an arm flopped
-spasmodically on the floor. Consciousness was on its way back.
-
-Duane touched the heat gun he'd thrust into his belt; drew it and held
-it poised, while he sought to discover what was in his own mind. He'd
-killed a man already, they said. Was he then a killer--could he shoot
-Andrias now, in cold blood, with so much to gain and nothing to lose?
-
-He stood there a moment. Then, abruptly, he reversed the weapon and
-chopped it down on Andrias' skull.
-
-There was a sharp grunt from the still unconscious man, but no other
-sign. Only--the first tremors of movement that had shown on him halted,
-and did not reappear.
-
-"_No_," Duane thought. "_Whatever they say, I'm not a killer!_"
-
-But still he had to get out. How?
-
-Once more he stared around the room, catalogued its contents. The guard
-would be getting impatient. Perhaps any minute he would tap the door,
-first timorously, then with heavier strokes.
-
-The guard! There was a way!
-
- * * * * *
-
-Duane eyed the length of the room. Thirty feet--it would take him a
-couple of seconds to run it at full speed. Was that fast enough?
-
-There was only one way to find out.
-
-He walked around the desk to the bell cord. He took a deep breath,
-tugged it savagely, and at once was in speedy motion, racing toward the
-door, his footsteps muffled in the deep, springy carpet. Almost as he
-reached it, he saw it begin to open. He quickly sidestepped and was out
-of the guard's sight, behind the door, as the man looked in.
-
-Quick suspicion flared in his eyes, then certainty as he saw Andrias
-huddled on the floor. He opened his mouth to cry out--
-
-But Duane's arm was around his throat, and he had no breath to spare.
-Duane's foot lashed out and the door slammed shut; Duane's balled left
-fist came up and connected with the guard's chin. Abruptly the man
-slumped.
-
-Duane took a deep breath and let the man drop to the floor. But he
-paused only a second; now he had two unconscious men on his hands and
-he dared let neither revive until he was prepared.
-
-He grasped the guard's arm and dragged him roughly the length of the
-room. He leaped on top of the desk, brutally scarring its gleaming top
-with the hard spikes of his boots. His agile fingers unfastened the
-long bell cord without causing it to ring and, bearing it, he dropped
-again to the floor.
-
-Tugging and straining, he got the limp form of Andrias into his own
-chair, bound him with the bell cord, gagged him with the priceless
-Venus-wool scarf Andrias wore knotted about his throat. He tested his
-bindings with full strength, and smiled. Those would hold, let Andrias
-struggle as he would.
-
-The guard he stripped of clothing, bound and gagged with his own
-belt and spaceman's kerchief. He dragged him around behind the desk,
-thrust him under it out of sight. Andrias' chair he turned so that the
-unconscious face was averted from the door. Should anyone look in,
-then, the fact of Andrias' unconsciousness might not be noticed.
-
-Then he took off his own clothes, quickly assumed the field-gray
-uniform of the guard. It fit like the skin of a fruit. He felt himself
-bulging out of it in a dozen places. The long cape the guard wore would
-conceal that, perhaps. In any case, there was nothing better.
-
-Trying to make his stride as martial as possible, he walked down the
-long carpet to the door, opened it and stepped outside.
-
- * * * * *
-
-His luck couldn't hold out forever. It was next to miraculous that he
-got as far as he did--out of the anteroom before Andrias' office, past
-the two guards there, who eyed him absently but said nothing, down the
-great entrance hall, straight out the front door.
-
-Going through the city had been easier, of course. There were many men
-in uniforms like his. Duane thought, then, that Andrias' power could
-not have been too strong, even over the League police whom he nominally
-commanded. The police could not all have been corrupt. There were too
-many of them; had they been turncoats, aiding Andrias in his revolt
-against the League, there would have been no need to smuggle rifles in
-for an unruly mass of civilians.
-
-Duane cursed the lack of foresight of the early Earth governments.
-They'd made a prison planet of Callisto; had filled it with the worst
-scum of Earth. Then, when the damage had been done--when Callisto had
-become a pest-hole among the planets; its iniquities a stench that rose
-to the stars--they had belatedly found that they had created a problem
-worse than the one they'd tried to solve. One like a hydra-beast.
-
-Criminality was not a thing of heredity. The children of the
-transported convicts, most of them, were honest and wanted to be
-respectable. And they could not be.
-
-Earth's crime rate, too, had not been lowered materially by exiling its
-gangsters and murderers to Callisto. When it was long past time, the
-League had stepped in, and set a governor of its own over Callisto.
-
-If the governor had been an honest man a satisfactory solution might
-have been worked out. The first governor had been honest. Under him
-great strides had been made. The bribe-proof, gun-handy League police
-had stamped out the wide-open plague spots of the planet; public works
-had been begun on a large scale. The beginnings of representative
-government had been established.
-
-But the first governor had died. And the second governor had
-been--Andrias.
-
-"_You can see the results!_" Duane thought grimly as he swung into the
-airfield in his rented ground car. Foreboding was stamped on the faces
-of half the Callistans he'd seen--and dark treachery on the others.
-Some of those men had been among the actual exiled criminals--the last
-convict ship had landed only a dozen years before. All of those whom
-Andrias planned to arm were either of the original transportation-men,
-or their weaker descendants.
-
-What was holding Andrias back? Why the need for smuggling guns in?
-
-The answer to that, Duane thought, was encouraging but not conclusive.
-Clearly, then, Andrias did not have complete control over the League
-police. But how much control he did have, what officers he had won over
-to treachery, Duane could not begin to guess.
-
-Duane slid the car into a parking slot, switched off the ignition and
-left it. It was night, but the short Callistan dark period was nearly
-over. A pearly glow at the horizon showed where the sun would come
-bulging over in a few minutes; while at the opposite rim of the planet
-he could still see the blood-red disc of mighty Jupiter lingering for
-a moment, casting a crimson hue over the landscape, before it made the
-final plunge. The field was not flood-lighted. Traffic was scarce on
-Callisto.
-
-Duane, almost invisible in the uncertain light, stepped boldly out
-across the jet-blasted tarmac toward the huge bulk of the _Cameroon_,
-the rocket transport which had brought him. Two other ships lay on the
-same seared pavement, but they were smaller. They were fighting ships,
-small, speedy ones, in Callisto for refueling before returning to the
-League's ceaseless patrol of the System's starlanes.
-
-Duane hesitated briefly, wondering whether he ought to go to one of
-those ships and tell his story to its League commander. He decided
-against it. There was too little certainty for him there; too much risk
-that the commander, even, might be a tool of Andrias'.
-
-Duane shook his head angrily. If only his memory were clear--if only he
-could be sure what he was doing!
-
- * * * * *
-
-He reached the portal of the ship. A gray-clad League officer was there
-standing guard, to prevent the ship taking off.
-
-"Official business," Duane said curtly, and swept by the startled
-man before he could object. He hurried along the corridor toward the
-captain's office and control room. A purser he passed looked at him
-curiously, and Duane averted his face. If the man recognized him there
-might be questions.
-
-For the thousandth time he cursed the gray cloud that overhung his
-memory. He didn't know, even, who among the crew might know him and
-spread the alarm.
-
-Then he was at the door marked, _Crew only--do not enter!_ He tapped on
-it, then grasped the knob and swung it open.
-
-A squat, open-featured man in blue, the bronze eagles of the Mercantile
-Service resting lightly on his powerful shoulders, looked at him.
-Recognition flared in his eyes.
-
-"Duane!" he whispered. "Peter Duane, what're you doing in the clothes
-of Andrias' household guard?"
-
-Duane felt the tenseness ebb out of his throat. Here was a friend.
-
-"Captain," he said, "you seem to be a friend of mine. If you are--I
-need you. You see, I've lost my memory."
-
-"Lost your memory?" the captain echoed. "You mean that blow on your
-head? The ship's surgeon said something ... yes, that was it. I hardly
-believed him, though."
-
-"But were we friends?"
-
-"Why, yes, Peter."
-
-"Then help me now," said Duane. "I have a cargo stowed in your hold,
-Captain. Do you know what it is?"
-
-"Why--yes. The rifles, you mean?"
-
-Duane blinked. He nodded, then looked dizzily for a chair. The captain
-was a friend of his, all right--a fellow gun-runner!
-
-"Good God," he said aloud. "What a mess!"
-
-"What's happened?" the captain asked. "I saw you in the corridor,
-arguing with Stevens. You looked like trouble, and I should have
-come up to you then. But the course was to be changed, and I had to
-be there.... And the next I hear, Stevens is dead, and you've maybe
-killed him. Then I heard you've lost your memory, and are in a jam with
-Andrias."
-
-He paused and speculation came into his eyes, almost hostility.
-
-"Peter Duane," he said softly, "it strikes me that you may have lost
-more than your memory. Which side are you on. What happened between
-you and Andrias? Tell me now if you've changed sides on me, man. For
-friendship's sake I won't be too hard on you. But there's too much at
-stake here--"
-
-"Oh, hell," said Peter, and the heat gun was suddenly in his hand,
-leveled at the squat man in blue. "I wish you were on my side, but
-there's no way I can tell. I can trust myself, I think--but that's all.
-Put up your hands!"
-
-And that was when his luck ran out.
-
-"Peter--" the captain began.
-
-
- IV
-
-But a sound from outside halted him. Together the two men stared at the
-viewplates. A siren had begun to shriek in the distance, the siren of a
-racing ground car. Through the gates it plunged, scattering the light
-wooden barrier. It spun crazily around on two wheels and came roaring
-for the ship.
-
-Andrias was in it.
-
-Peter turned on the captain, and the gun was rigidly outthrust in his
-hand.
-
-"Close your ports!" he snarled. "Up rockets--in a hurry!"
-
-"Listen, Peter," the captain began.
-
-"I said, hurry!" The car's brakes shrieked outside, and it disappeared
-from the view of the men. There was an abrupt babble of voices.
-
-"Close your ports!" Peter shouted savagely. "Now!"
-
-The captain opened his mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. He touched
-the stud of a communications set, said into it, "Close ports. Snap to
-it. Engine room--up rockets in ten seconds. All crew--stand by for
-lift!"
-
-The ship's own take-off siren howled shrilly, drowning out the angry
-voices from below. Peter felt the whine of the electrics that dogged
-shut the heavy pressure doors. He stepped to the pilot's chair, slid
-into it, buckled the compression straps around him.
-
-The instruments--he recognized them all, knew how to use them! Had he
-been a rocket pilot before his mind had blanked--before embarking on
-the more lucrative profession of gun smuggler? He wondered....
-
-But it was the captain who took the ship off. "Ten seconds," Peter
-said. "Get moving!"
-
-The captain hesitated the barest fraction, but his eyes were on the
-heat gun and he knew that Duane was capable of using it. "The men--" he
-said. "If they're underneath when the jets go, they'll burn!"
-
-"That's the chance they take," said Duane. "They heard the siren!"
-
-The captain turned his head quickly, and his fingers flashed out.
-He was in his own acceleration seat too, laced down by heavy canvas
-webbing. His hands reached out to the controls before him, and his
-fingers took on a life of their own as they wove dexterously across the
-keys, setting up fire-patterns, charting a course of take-off. Then the
-heel of his hand settled on the firing stop....
-
- * * * * *
-
-The acceleration was worse than Peter's clouded mind had expected,
-but no more than he could stand. In his frame of mind, he could stand
-almost anything, he thought--short of instant annihilation!
-
-The thin air of Callisto howled past them, forming a high obligato to
-the thunder of the jets. Then the air-howl faded sharply to silence,
-and the booming of the rockets became less a thing of sound than a
-rumble in the framework of the _Cameroon_. They were in space.
-
-[Illustration: _The Cameroon blasted from its cradle, racing Andrias'
-ships for open space._]
-
-The captain's foot kicked the pedal that shut off the over-drive jets,
-reducing the thrust to a mere one-gravity acceleration. He turned to
-Duane.
-
-"What now?" he asked.
-
-Duane, busy unstrapping himself from the restraining belts, shook his
-head without answering. What now? "_A damn good question!_" he thought.
-
-The captain, with the ease of long practice, was already out of his own
-pressure straps. He stood there by his chair, watching Duane closely.
-But the gun was still in Duane's hand, despite his preoccupation.
-
-Duane cocked an ear as he threw off the last strap. Did he hear voices
-in the corridor, a distance away but coming.
-
-The captain, looking out the port with considerable interest,
-interrupted his train of thought. "What," he asked, "for instance, are
-you going to do about--those?"
-
-His arm was outstretched, pointing outward and down. Duane looked in
-that direction--
-
-The two patrol rockets were streaking up after his commandeered ship.
-Fairy-like in their pastel shades, with the delicate tracery of girders
-over their fighting noses, they nevertheless represented grim menace to
-Duane!
-
-He swore under his breath. The _Cameroon_, huge and lumbering, was
-helpless as a sitting bird before those lithe hawks of prey. If only he
-knew which side the ships were on. If only he knew--anything!
-
-He couldn't afford to take a chance. "Stand back!" he ordered the
-captain. The man in blue gave ground before him, staring wonderingly as
-Duane advanced. Duane took a quick look at the control set-up, tried to
-remember how to work it.
-
-It was so tantalizingly close to his memory! He cursed again; then
-stabbed down on a dozen keys at random, heeled the main control down,
-jumped back, even as the ship careened madly about in its flight, and
-blasted the delicate controls to shattered ashes with a bolt from his
-heat gun. Now the ship was crippled, for the time being at least. Short
-of a nigh-impossible boarding in space, the two patrol cruisers could
-do nothing with it till the controls were repaired. The _Cameroon_, and
-its cargo of political dynamite, would circle through space for hours
-or days.
-
-It wasn't much--but it was the best he could do. At least it would give
-him time to think things over.
-
-No. He heard the voices of the men in the corridor again, tumbled about
-by the abrupt course change--luckily, it had been only a mild thing
-compared to the one that had killed Stevens and caused his own present
-dilemma--but regaining their feet and coming on. And one of the voices,
-loud and harsh, was Andrias! Somehow, before the ports closed, he'd
-managed to board the _Cameroon_!
-
- * * * * *
-
-Duane stood erect, whirled to face the door. The captain stood by it.
-Duane thrust his heat gun at him.
-
-"The door!" he commanded. "Lock it!"
-
-Urged by the menace of the heat gun, the captain hurriedly put out a
-hand to the lock of the door--
-
-And jerked it back, nursing smashed knuckles, as Andrias and four men
-burst in, hurling the door open before them. They came to a sliding,
-tumbling halt, though, as they faced grim Duane and his ready heat
-pistol.
-
-"Hold it!" he ordered. "That's right.... Stay that way while I figure
-things out. The first man that moves, dies for it."
-
-Dark blood flooded into Andrias' face, but he said no word, only
-stood there glaring hatred. The smear of crimson had been brushed
-from his face, but his nose was still awry and a huge purplish bruise
-was spreading over it and across one cheek. The three men with him
-were guards. All were armed--the police with hand weapons as lethal
-as Duane's own, Andrias with an old-style projective-type weapon--an
-ancient pistol, snatched from some bewildered spaceman as they burst
-into the _Cameroon_.
-
-Duane braced himself with one arm against the pilot's chair and stared
-at them. The crazy circular course the blasted controls had given the
-ship had a strong lateral component; around and around the ship went,
-in a screaming circle, chasing its own tail. There was a sudden change
-in the light from the port outside; Duane involuntarily looked up for a
-moment. Dulled and purplish was the gleam from the brilliant stars all
-about; the _Cameroon_, in its locked orbit, had completed a circle and
-was plunging through its own wake of expelled jet-gases. He saw the two
-patrol rockets streak past; then saw the flood of rocket-flares from
-their side jets as they spun and braked, trying to match course and
-speed with the crazy orbit of the _Cameroon_.
-
-He'd looked away for only a second; abruptly he looked back.
-
-"Easy!" he snapped. Andrias' arm, which had begun to lift, straightened
-out, and the scowl on the governor's face darkened even more.
-
-_Clackety-clack._ There was the sound of a girl's high heels running
-along the corridor, followed by heavier thumps from the space boots of
-men. Duane jerked his gun at Andrias and his police.
-
-"Out of the way!" he said. "Let's see who's coming now."
-
-It was the girl. Red hair fluttering in the wake of her running, face
-alight with anxiety, she burst into the room.
-
-"Peter!" she cried. "Andrias and his men--"
-
-She stopped short and took in the tableau. Duane's eyes were on her,
-and he was about to speak. Then he became conscious of something in her
-own eyes, a sudden spark that flared even before her lips opened and a
-thin cry came from them; even before she leaped to one side, at Andrias.
-
-Peter cursed and tried to turn, to dodge; tried to bring his heat gun
-around. But a thunder louder than the bellowing jets outside filled the
-room, and a streak of livid fire crossed the fringe of Peter's brain.
-Sudden blackness closed in around him. He fell--and his closing eyes
-saw new figures running into the room, saw the counterplay of lashing
-heat beams.
-
-_This is it_--he thought grimly, and then thought no more.
-
-
- IV
-
-Duane was in the sickbay again, on the same bed. His head was spinning
-agonizedly. He forced his eyes open--and the girl was there; the same
-girl. She was watching him. A cloud on her face lifted as she saw his
-lids flicker open; then it descended again. Her lips quivered.
-
-"Darn you, Peter," she whispered. "Who are you now?"
-
-"Why--why, I'm Peter Duane, of course," he said.
-
-"Well, thank God you know that!" It was the captain. He'd changed since
-the last time Peter had seen him. One arm was slung in bandages that
-bore the yellow seeping tint of burn salve.
-
-Peter shook his head to try to clear it. "Where--where am I?" he asked.
-"Andrias--"
-
-"Andrias is where he won't bother you," the captain said. "Locked up
-below. So are two of his men. The other one's dead. How's your memory,
-Peter?"
-
-Duane touched it experimentally with a questing mental finger. It
-seemed all right, though he felt still dazed.
-
-"Coming along," he said. "But where am I? The controls--I blasted them."
-
-The captain laughed. "I know," he said briefly. "Well--I guess you had
-to, in a way. You didn't trust anyone; couldn't trust anyone. You had
-to make sure the rifles wouldn't get back to Callisto too soon. But
-they're working on installing duplicates now, Peter. In an hour we'll
-be back on Callisto. We shut the jets off already; we're in an orbit."
-
-Duane sank back. "Listen," he said. "I think--I think my memory's
-clearing, somehow. But how--I mean, were you on my side? All along?"
-
-The captain nodded soberly. "On your side, yes, Peter," he said. "The
-League's side, that is. You and I, you know, both work for the League.
-When they got word of Andrias' plans, they had to work fast. To move
-in by force would have meant bloodshed, would have forced his hand.
-That would have been utterly bad. It was too dangerous. Callisto is
-politically a powder-keg already. The whole thing might have exploded."
-
-Peter's eyes flared with sudden hope and enlightment. "And you and I--"
-he began.
-
-"You and I, and a couple of other undercover workers were put on the
-job," the captain nodded. "We had to find out who Andrias' supporters
-were--and to keep him from getting more electron rifles while the
-commanders of the Callisto garrison were quietly checked, to see who
-was on which side. They've found Andrias' Earth backers--a group of
-wealthy malcontents who thought Callisto should be exploited for their
-gain, had made secret deals with him for concessions. You, of course,
-slowed down the delivery of the rifles as long as you could. They lay
-in the Lunar warehouses a precious extra week while you haggled over
-terms. That's what you were doing with Stevens, I think, when the
-course change caught you both."
-
-"You've had him long enough," the nurse broke in. "I have a few words
-to say."
-
-"No, wait--" Duane protested. But the captain was grinning broadly. He
-moved toward the door.
-
-"Later," he said over his shoulder. "There'll be plenty of time." The
-door closed behind him. Duane turned to the girl.
-
- * * * * *
-
-He shook his head again. The cloud was lifting. He could almost
-remember everything again; things were beginning to come into focus.
-This girl, for instance--
-
-She noticed his motion. "How's your head, Peter?" she asked
-solicitously. "Andrias hit you with that awful old bullet-gun. I tried
-to stop him, but all I could do was jar his arm. Oh, Peter, I was so
-afraid when I saw you fall!"
-
-"You probably saved my life," Peter said soberly. "Andrias struck me as
-a pretty good shot." He tried to grin.
-
-The girl frowned. "Peter," she said, "I'm sorry if I seemed rude,
-before--the last time you were here. It was just that I.... Well, you
-didn't remember me. I couldn't understand."
-
-Peter stared at her. Yes--he _should_ remember her. He did, only--
-
-"Perhaps this will help you," the girl said. She rummaged in a pocket
-of her uniform, brought something out that was tiny and glittering. "I
-don't wear it on duty, Peter. But I guess this is an exception...."
-
-Peter pushed himself up on one elbow, trying to make out what she was
-doing. She was slipping the small thing on a finger....
-
-A ring. An engagement ring!
-
-"Oh--" said Peter. And suddenly everything clicked; he remembered; he
-could recall ... everything. That second blow on his head had undone
-the harm of the first one.
-
-He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, reached out
-hungry arms for the girl.
-
-"Of course I remember," he said as she came into the circle of his
-arms. "The ring on your finger. I ought to remember--_I put it there!_"
-
-And for a long time after there was no need for words.
-
- * * * * *
-
-[Transcriber's Note: There were two Section IV headings in original
-text.]
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's Conspiracy on Callisto, by James MacCreigh
-
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