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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..94d0f03 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63721 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63721) diff --git a/old/63721-0.txt b/old/63721-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dd61f3d..0000000 --- a/old/63721-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2505 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mirage For Planet X, by Stanley Mullen - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Mirage For Planet X - -Author: Stanley Mullen - -Release Date: December 05, 2020 [EBook #63721] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRAGE FOR PLANET X *** - - - - - MIRAGE FOR PLANET X - - By STANLEY MULLEN - - _The prize was sealed, its contents unknown. - Yet scavengers from a dozen barbaric Moons; - adventurers from nameless, semi-explored - asteroids, arrived for the deathless - auction.... To bid on Roper's notorious loot._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Spring 1955. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -They were bringing in the prisoners who had escaped from Phobos. Sand -skimmer ambulances had raced to the spaceport outside the terraced -Martian city and waited. Dust devils danced on the wide, wind-whipped -Martian plains. Grannar of the Police and his silent companion examined -each body as it was lowered from the rescue ship. - -Death anywhere is an ugly business. On Mars, you get used to bodies -that never rot. Deep-freeze temperatures hold down decay bacteria, and -the dry, cold air quickly dessicates the tissue. Bodies turn into -mummies that look and weigh like so much shredded wheat. But these -corpses were worse--they were meaningless parodies that might never -have been men. In primal disgust, Torry studied each one in turn, then -shuddered and shook his head. - -Grannar was tough minded, or stronger stomached. Police routines had -taught him not to shudder. - -"You can get used to this," he observed, enjoying Torry's revulsion. -"Since you'd known Roper, we thought you could help us identify him. -Thanks for coming along." - -"Had I a choice?" asked Torry bitterly. - -The policeman's laugh was brutal, explosive. "There is always a choice. -You can do as you're told or be dragged in screaming." - -Torry grimaced. "Much more of this and I'll be dragged out screaming." - -The prisoner-escapees, what was left of them, were an unpleasant -sight. Explosive decompression in airless space does curious things to -men's bodies. Blood boils in the veins and flesh bursts from internal -pressures. Also, there are heat-cold curiosities, with half a body -burnt raw on the sunward side, and the rest frozen iron-hard with a -lacy overlay of snowflake patterns in red. - -Holden was still alive, by a miracle. Forward compartments had held -together when the makeshift spacer blew its flimsy self inside out. He -was alive but not talking. They brought the bulging mass of pulped, -purple flesh back to Mars and dumped it in a basket. There was no face, -no eyes, no recognizable hands or feet. For the time that remained to -him, Holden would be less than a functioning animal, fed by tube, cared -for by people he could not see or hear, living a precarious existence -on the raw, black fringe of life. Holden was through talking. And for -any practical purpose, through living. - -"Too bad," said Grannar, looking into the basket. "He could have told -us about a lot of things ... if he'd wanted to." - -"Holden was a nice guy before he knew Bart Roper," Torry snapped -angrily. - -"You sound pretty bitter about Roper." - -"I should be. I know him better than you do. I am bitter about Roper." - -"Because of Holden?" pressed Grannar. - -"Not ... Holden. But it might as easily have been me in that basket. -Six years ago I was Roper's partner. I got out quickly when I found out -some of his business methods. And I had very little he could steal from -me then. A lot of people have a variety of good reasons to hate Roper. -Just say that I'm one of them." - -Grannar whistled a Martian tune. The sound was shrill and eery in the -thin air. - -"You may as well ride back to the city in the police car with me," he -suggested. "We can talk--" - -"Talk!" blurted Torry. He swore savagely. "All this ugly business -for nothing. You haven't found Roper yet. You don't even know if he -made good his escape from your prison moon. In short, you don't know -anything." - -"True, up to a point," agreed the policeman quietly. "There are always -many things I don't know. So I concentrate on the few things I do -know. For example, you're very much interested in finding Roper. I'm -wondering why. You can tell me about that on our way back to the city. -About Roper himself, I know a few minor facts. Nobody has ever escaped -from Phobos, the prison moon, but Roper may have managed it. With -outside help, he got materials and fittings smuggled in to construct -a scratch spacer. It blew up, as we know, but Roper may have expected -that. In a good spacesuit, he could have survived. Since we still -haven't found him, dead or alive, he's probably circling somewhere in a -private orbit, waiting to be picked up." - -"It could be a long wait. One man is hard to find in all that space." - -"Not necessarily. A code transmitter powered by transuranic alloys -would keep sending indefinitely. And Roper could have agreed upon being -picked up at some point of a fixed orbit by his outside friends. We'll -find him, I think. In the meantime, we have you ... and some questions. -Wait in my car. I'll be with you as soon as I thumbprint some papers." - - * * * * * - -Torry stumbled across the barren sand wastes of the spaceport, pitted -or glazed here and there by old take-off blasts. Without trouble he -located the half track vehicle bearing police insignia. He got in -and settled himself sourly to await Grannar's probing third degree. -He meditated grimly on Roper, himself, and his reasons for coming to -Mars.... - -Had it only been last night he arrived? It seemed eternities ago. -Coming in from Earth by short orbit express, green with deceleration -sickness, he had wondered why he was in such a rush. After four years -a cold trail would not get any colder. It had not, of course. It was -hot when he arrived and had been getting hotter by the minute. Only the -fact of being aboard the express at the time of the prison break had -cleared him in Grannar's eyes of being involved physically. And even -that alibi did not erase suspicion from Grannar's suspicious nature. - -Grannar was shrewd and deadly, a born hunter of men. Since the Martians -never trust each other, most of the policing is done by hirelings from -other planets. Grannar was an Earthman originally. But he was a long -way from home, and twenty years on Mars had made him more Martian than -the natives. He was hard, smart, dangerous, and a tough man to fool. - -Torry had learned that at once last night. - -But Grannar's return to the police car cut short his reverie. Torry -watched the official cross the spaceport toward him, impressed by -the lithe grace and sureness of movement over treacherous sand. Mars -does something to a man who stays there. The body dries up and the -soul withers, but if he survives, a man grows into something lean and -leathery with pantherish strength and easy, poised motions. - -Grannar vaulted to the driver's seat and slammed on power. With a skirl -of steering runners, the half track took off toward the bubble city of -New Chicago, named without tenderness by some long forgotten exile. -Grannar drove with careless violence, but the half track skimmer shot -among the dunes and low, lichen-clad hills without incident. - -There is no truth to the charge that it takes as long to get from the -spaceport to New Chicago as it does to reach Mars from Earth. But the -distance is impressive and the going rough. Grannar talked as he drove, -seeming casual, but his questioning had the same icy skill and unerring -judgment. - -"We'll start at the beginning," he said. - -"There is no beginning," Torry jerked out angrily. "I got in last -night. Fresh from the spaceport and customs, I put a coin in the public -visiphone and asked Central Information about Roper. Central had no -information and returned my coin. It was a police trap. Your men picked -me up, searched me with a Geiger counter and found the coin. You keep -faintly radioactive coins in the visiphone machines for Central to -return when someone is curious about police business. It came out even. -You found out I was curious about Roper, and I found out he is police -business, and his case is current. Do you think I'd be fool enough to -call such attention to myself if I knew about Roper's prison break?" - -"You might be. And it might be smart. That way you'd find out what the -police knew and what they were doing. And it could be an alibi in case -the breakout was delayed. We'll skip those possibilities for now. You -were mulish last night about certain questions. I'm still not clear -about why you are so desperate to find Roper. Why?" - -Torry smiled coldly. "That's easy. I have to find him for a legal -release. Preferably dead, which will make things easier for everybody. -But if he's alive, I want his signature and prints on some papers." - -"Why? What papers?" - -Torry hesitated. "It's a touchy subject. A personal matter. Nothing to -do with the police." - -"I'll be the judge of that. Keep talking." - -"Have you ever spent five years on an asteroid all by yourself?" - -Grannar grunted. "Fortunately not. Twenty years on Mars is bad enough -for me. Have you?" - -Torry's face twisted in bitterness. "I have. I cracked up my one-man -spacecan while prospecting in the asteroids. I was there five years -until a survey ship happened by. There were minerals, low grade -transuranics, but good enough to work when you had nothing else to do. -I worked out the whole asteroid and had a good payload for the survey -ship when it brought me back. Not a big fortune, but a stake that -looked pretty good to me. I'm not rich now, but I can get along without -skipping meals." - -"What's the connection with Roper?" - -"None in that part of it. I went prospecting after I'd dissolved my -partnership with Roper. Times were bad, and I couldn't tie up with a -decent job. There was a girl--" - -"There usually is. Who was she?" - -"Rose Mead, then. She promised to wait for me. She didn't. She's -Roper's wife now. Not that I blame her too much. A year can be a long -time, and five years is longer when you're a castaway on a small -asteroid. Nothing to look at but a skyful of stars. Nothing to breathe -but hydroponic-cycle air. No food but your homemade synthetics and -the green stuff you grow in your chemical vats. You work and eat and -sleep, and any idea can become an obsession. Sometimes it's one woman, -sometimes an imaginary harem. I had a 3-d picture of Rose. It helped to -hold me together, or maybe it just channeled an idea that was bound to -go haywire." - -"You're beginning to make sense," commented Grannar. "So you have an -obsession about Roper's wife?" - -"I call it that. But I figure that all my money is not worth much if -it won't buy just one thing I've dreamed about for five long years. -There's a technicality about divorcing a man who's away from Earth, in -space. Rose is funny about it. But she's agreed that her marriage was -a mistake. She'll marry me if I can prove Roper is dead, or can get a -release from him." - -"Is the girl worth all this trouble?" - - * * * * * - -Torry grinned cynically. "Probably not. But Rose is a good, sound, -practical minded girl. Maybe my money looks good to her. Roper left her -four years ago with hardly any resources. For myself, after five years -of dream stuff, a solid human girl like Rose looks pretty good. Dream -stuff looks fragile, but it's mighty tough eating for a daily diet." - -"So you want to find Roper. Preferably dead, you say. Does that include -pushing him off a cliff if you find him?" - -Torry snorted. "It could. That depends on Roper." - -The policeman echoed the snort. "Roper is dangerous. You may have -forgotten how tricky and ruthless he can be. Sounds to me like hunting -a tiger with a butterfly net." - -Torry smiled viciously. "Even that can be done ... if the net is big -enough and strong enough. I'm counting on a curious twist in Roper's -mind. I'm a challenge to him--the one man so far he failed to swindle -or corrupt. He pulled a fast one about Rose, but he knows I wasn't -there to fight back. It galls him. And if he knows I'm here, alive, and -looking for him, maybe he'll find me and try to wipe out the one flaw -in his record." - -Grannar shot a glance of grudging admiration, but shook his head. "At -the moment, I wouldn't count on it. He'll be busy and we'll see to it -that he is. But if you want to go looking for him, maybe I can help -you." - -"Do you know where he is?" - -"No, but I can give you some hints where to look." - -"Why?" Torry was baffled. - -"Two reasons. Maybe more, but two will do. I'm a cop, so I hate men -like Roper. If he's on Mars I'll get him sooner or later because I'm -a good cop. And it's my job. I hate crooks, so I'll kill him or catch -him and send him to Phobos for keeps. The second reason is that I hate -Mars. It's a tough world--what government there is is corrupt and -vicious. Offend the wrong people or stir things up, and you're out -without your pension. You can even get hurt. I want out while I'm still -ahead, with enough money to go back to Earth and live decently. And so -far I haven't that kind of money." - -"I don't see the connection," protested Torry. - -Grannar's bushy eyebrows crawled up and down like caterpillars. - -"There's big money in this Roper business. There has to be for anyone -to take the risk of arranging a breakout from Phobos that costs plenty." - -"Roper must have something pretty good this time to attract help like -that. What is it?" - -Grannar shrugged. "I don't know. My guess is transuranics--the heavy -metals beyond uranium in the atomic table; the stuff that powers -planets. Without it our whole economy breaks down, and we can't even -afford to make air for places like Mars. But you've mined it yourself. -You know how rare and valuable it is." - -"I know," said Torry. "You think Roper has a new source?" - -"Maybe that, and maybe he's discovered or stolen a cheaper way to -process or transport it." - -"It figures," admitted Torry. "Roper was always interested in -transuranics, and always looking for a squeeze play like that. He'd be -able to make his own terms, wouldn't he? Including squaring the charges -against him?" - -"Just about any terms he dictated," grated the detective. - -"Why tell me this?" - -Grannar's eyes narrowed. "You want Roper for your own good reasons. -I want him for mine. My hands are tied but yours are not. If you want -him, go after him. I'll help, short of risking my job. I'm offering to -make a deal with you. It occurs to me that a couple of smart men could -make a real killing by knowing the right time to buy a few shares of -stock in transuranics. A man like me might even make enough to retire -to Earth, comfortably." - -"You're beginning to make sense," said Torry. "What makes you so sure -I'll cut you in for a slice?" - -Grannar laughed harshly. "My nuisance value, for one thing. My -usefulness for another. I'm an honest cop. But there's nothing in the -rule book that says I can't pick up valuable information on the side -while I'm doing my job. And nothing that says I can't put pressure on -you to help me do it. Besides, why should you balk at doing me a favor -when you're doing yourself one at the same time?" - -"I'm still listening." - -"New to Mars, aren't you?" - -"New enough. I've been here before, but a long time ago and not for -long then. Why?" - -"Do you know anything about the local set-up, the governments?" - -"Not much. It's a kind of anarchy, I think. The big companies and even -the labor racketeers have private armies like the old goon squads. -Legal government is just a front for feudal gangs, with the police -sitting politely on the lid. Lobbies and pressure groups are the real -bosses. Is that right?" - - * * * * * - -Grannar whistled his aimless Martian tune. "You said it. I didn't. Not -out loud. I never even think it in a room that might have microphones -or scanners. Mars is interesting, beautiful, with shreds and tatters -of an old, picturesque culture clinging to ivy-patterns to the new, -modern, cosmopolitan, industrial set-up. It says that in the books and -travel ads. Out here in the clean and lifeless air of a worn-out planet -I can have the precarious luxury of hating it. I want out, and you're -going to help me get out." - -"Why stay anyhow?" - -"Because I'm a cop and it's the only job I know. And bad as it is, -it's better than nothing. You've heard the yarn of the brash young -rookie in Earth's Sahara City, the guy famous for arresting the police -commissioner's daughter. I'm that cop. I hung a ticket on her for -traffic violation. It turned out she was drunk and speeding away from -an accident that killed somebody. The mess was too ugly to hush up, so -she went to prison and I went to the sticks for keeps. I resigned and -came here. So I learned to keep my mouth shut, do as I was told, and -never to move an inch out of line with the people who count." - -"You're breaking my heart," Torry said bitterly. "Go on." - -"Roper's not alone in this. Somebody with money and political influence -arranged that escape, probably picked him up off the wreck. Before he -went to Phobos he was mixed up with Trans-Uranic Miners Union, and also -with a Martian pressure group headed by old Sen Bas, the importer. -He may still be. I want no trouble with either. With you it doesn't -matter. Maybe you'll dig up a lot of interesting facts before you get -yourself killed." - -"Get to the point." - -"Spacefreight. Two large boxes consigned to Roper and Holden, his -partner. Still unopened, held in the unclaimed spacefreight warehouse. -Charges are high and Roper was broke. He tried to get money from -Trans-U and the Martians, but neither was buying a pig in a poke. Not -then. Maybe they are now. He must have convinced his backers, somehow. -But they can't get the space crates either unless I say so. Roper and -his pal tried robbery to raise money and landed on Phobos. I put the -crates under police seal." - -"Why weren't they condemned and opened?" - -"Too much red tape and money. The transport company can sell the stuff -legally for charges, but only at public auction, unopened, and bids -start at charges plus storage. Are you interested?" - -Torry frowned. "My funds are not unlimited...." - -"That's a chance we'll both have to take. I'm taking a chance on you -anyhow, but don't try any smart tricks. I always cover bets. The boxes -will be officially released for tomorrow's auction. All I ask is a -look inside at Roper's gimmick, whatever it is, so I'll know whether to -buy transuranics or not. If you buy the boxes the contents are yours. -Fair enough?" - -Torry grunted. "If they sell low enough you'll get your look after I've -had mine." - -"See that I do," warned Grannar. "And a word of advice. You can't -import weapons to Mars, but there's no law says you can't buy one here -and sleep with it. Shall I drop you at your hotel?" - -The half track was nearing the domed city. A gigantic half bubble of -polarized plastic rose from the plain to enclose both the old Martian -town and the bustling, strident metropolis of New Chicago. From the -desert the dome was nearly invisible, but the architectural jumbles -looked like a forest of lighted Christmas trees appearing by magic in -the swift dusk of the red planet. - -Torry grinned. "You're forgetting I spent my first night in jail." - -Grannar scoffed, "Routine, one in jail, one in a hotel, the next in the -morgue...." - - - II - -An auction of unclaimed, refused or damaged spacefreight held more -surprises and excitements than a Martian wedding. All shipments were -sold "as is, unopened," which offered endless possibilities to a daring -purchaser. - -Anything could pop out of a sealed space crate when the container was -broken into, and sometimes it did, literally. One unlucky bidder got -seven full grown grull cats, shipped from Venus in suspended animation. -His purchase caused seven minor riots until company guards with gas -guns could subdue the savage killers. Loot from a dozen inhabited -worlds and a hundred half explored moons and asteroids littered the -floor or spilled from damaged cases. - -Bids ran high and two dozen small fortunes changed hands as Lots 1 -to 24 went up at auction and were knocked down. Any bid on unclaimed -freight was a gamble, the one form not taxed to death by a greedy -government. And the inhabitants of New Chicago were gamblers, or they -would not have been there. The crowd was mixed and polyglot; human and -half-human species rubbed elbows and tempers to a fine frenzy. - -"Lot 25," sang the auctioneer. "Who'll open?" - -To avoid attracting attention, Torry had bid half-heartedly on several -previous items, breathing a sigh of relief when bids pyramided and the -lots sold to someone else. - -This time, he merely sparked off the bidding, only to have a Martian -importer jump down his throat with an offer of twice the amount. Torry -dropped out as the bidding climbed in dizzy spirals, and the shipment -went to the impatient Martian for the price of a small spaceline. -Laughter rippled over the auction lofts as the boxes were opened and -found to contain forty small air conditioners of a type useless on Mars. - -Lot 26 sold badly after that disappointment. It proved to be a treasure -of rare luminous birds from Venus, and collectors immediately offered -the fortunate purchaser triple his money for the lot. - -"Lot 27," roared the auctioneer before excitement could die down. "Two -large boxes to be sold separately. No information on these ... except -that they were held overtime in storage and have just been released -from police seal. The space crates are undamaged. Who'll open?" - -Torry felt like a small child back on Earth, clutching moist bronze -pennies in his hot, grimy fist as he ran to the corner candy store. -Nerves and muscles contracted in his throat. He opened his mouth but no -sound came out. - -"Fifty credits," shouted the Martian who had bought Lot 25. "I want to -recoup my losses." He stared belligerently at Torry. - -Somebody else doubled the bid. - -Torry found a shadow of his voice and redoubled. Grinning evilly, the -Martian raised again, but not before he shot a wary glance across the -room. Torry met the challenge, then following the direction of the -Martian's glance, he spotted a Martian girl standing near the doorway. -She was so swathed in blue Venusian spidersilk as to be practically -invisible, and there was time for only a general impression. But Torry -did not miss the head-nod signal, instructing the Martian male to bid -for her. After the man's previous performance, Torry braced himself for -spirited competition. - -Up and up went the bids ... astronomically. - -At twenty thousand credits the Martian hesitated for an automatic mute -appeal to the feminine figure. The girl nodded again, but that moment's -doubt cost the Martian. - -"... Third and last time. Sold to the Earthman ... for twenty thousand -credits." - -Torry swallowed hard. He saw the girl glide toward him through the -crowd, moving as smoothly and silently as a ghost. - -Like a maniac the Martian charged to the platform, croaking a loud -protest. Arguments became heated, voices were raised in harsh clamor, -then blows struck. Grinning, Torry watched the scramble. A knot of -uniformed company guards surged around the battling Martian and hustled -him from the auction rooms. A gas gun was used finally to subdue the -raging sportsman. While Torry waited for attendants to bring him the -box and his purchase receipts, he looked again for the girl but she had -melted into the crowd. - -Interest was now roused to a high pitch. The auctioneer went into his -spiel in whatever alien language auctioneers use, and it was only by -knowing in advance what was being said that anyone could make sense of -the garble. - -"... Other half of Lot 27," droned the husky voice. "How about a -thousand credits to open?" - -"One thousand," Torry bid hoarsely. - -He felt sweaty and feverish at the same time. Mentally he calculated -his remaining resources. A little more of this, and the show would be -out of his price class. - -Bidding was rapid. In jumps the price went up from twenty to thirty -thousand. The Martian's hysteria seemed to have infected everyone. At -thirty-five thousand, bidding slowed. - -"Thirty-six thousand," Torry bid. - - * * * * * - -Moments lengthened and Torry's breath came slowly back. It was the -absolute limit of his available cash, and the auction terms were cash -on the spot. Numbly, he realized that his bid, if it were accepted, -used up more than half of his fortune from five years of lonely work. - -"Thirty-seven thousand," offered a bull-throated voice. And a -barrel-bodied mine owner from Iobololy thrust himself forward as if to -give authority to his bid. - -Torry had shot his wad. He could not raise the bid, and it meant loss -of the second box. Slowly, the starch dissolved out of him and he let -his excitement wilt. - -With bidding so high, the auctioneer was not impatient. He studied -Torry hopefully. The moment extended. The gavel raised, slammed down. - -"Going once." - -A thrusting hand delved into Torry's pocket where he clutched grimly at -his sheaf of paper credits. For an awful moment he thought his pocket -was being picked. Then crisp, rustling paper bulged his pocket, and -realization bulged his eyes. There was no time for thought or argument. -In blind confusion, he drew out a packet of paper money and stared at -it. A cruel fist jabbed into Torry's ribs. - -"Going twice ... at thirty-seven thousand." - -"Forty thousand!" screamed Torry. - -Bids climbed again, to fifty thousand, to fifty-five, then to sixty. At -sixty-two thousand, the fat man from Io gave up. - -"Sold," droned the auctioneer. "I hope the man from Earth has the -money, and his money's worth. Now, Lot 28, five cases, one broken open. -The rest...." - -Torry did not hear any more. He turned and stared blankly at a vision -in blue spidersilk. Gossamer fabric so swathed the girl, covering so -densely in so many folds, that she had no more form than an ear of -corn. A face showed dimly through layers of diaphanous cloth, but no -features were clear enough to have real definition. - -"Who are you?" gasped Torry. - -"Your partner." The voice, as smooth and silken as the garments, seemed -bodiless, but it suggested purringly that the girl was not. "Don't be -so obvious about it. We won't open the boxes here. Hire men to move our -loot and I'll have a robotruck waiting outside the freight doors in -five minutes. Be there." - -Torry nodded dumbly. She vanished again, so quickly that he almost -wondered if he had imagined her. But her money was real enough. He -fumbled it, paying grim-faced attendants, then hired men to move the -heavy crates to the freight elevator. At street level, with the boxes -blocking most of the entrance, he waited. - -A wheeled robotruck quickly appeared and the girl descended the ramp. -Like a blue fury, she directed the men and had the space crates loaded -in a brace of minutes. Then a hand snaked out from the fabric folds. - -"Half of eighty-two thousand is forty-one thousand," she said. "We can -settle up now." - -"Half of sixty-two thousand," objected Torry. - -"You don't know me very well," she murmured. "It has to be all or -nothing." - -The gun against his stomach decided Torry. "Don't be like that. You -win." He shrugged. "I guess we're both taking a chance at that. -Forty-one thousand is a heavy investment in curiosity." - -The gun vanished. "You've no idea how much of a chance we're taking," -she mused aloud. "People are curious. Yo Tyal is a fool, and I didn't -dare attract attention by bidding myself. Half of the Trans-U Miners' -goon squad was at that auction just watching me. You should know what -that means." - -"Should I?" - -"You should--if you don't. But we can't stand here talking like -moonstruck lovers. Not unless we're tired of living. Which is it, -partner, me or the goon squad?" - -"You, I guess." Torry laughed grimly. "Though if I'd known about the -goon squad I'd have given you less argument." - -Her head tossed under the myriad veilings of spidersilk. She scrambled -aboard the robotruck and pressed the motor stud. "Come on, then," she -ordered sharply. - -The truck was in motion almost before Torry could leap to the seat -beside her. - -Going at suicidal speed through the twisting alleyways of the old city, -Torry felt hopelessly confused and lost. Worse, the girl kept glancing -over her shoulder, and her driving suffered. It was reckless enough at -best. - -"You drive," Torry urged. "Unless you're psychic you can't watch where -you're going and where we've just been. If anything's following us, -it's probably just an ambulance looking for business." - -"Make sure," she ordered breathlessly. - -At first Torry could distinguish nothing but a blurred rush of shadowy -buildings whirling away behind them as if being drawn toward some -colossal whirlpool. But he sensed pursuit, just as the girl had, -perhaps because she seemed to expect it. Then he saw two huge dark -vehicles race into view just before she swerved the robotruck around a -corner and shut off rear vision. - -"We are being followed," he grudged. "Now where, partner?" - -"Home, I had thought," she said. "But we'll never make it. And I don't -want those wolves going through our place. It's bad enough without -that." - - * * * * * - -The robotruck hit a straight stretch. Pencil beams of light licked out -from the street-shadows behind. Fire flowers blossomed, but the noise -of heavy explosions was lost in the roar of racing motors. Showers of -dust and flakes of fiery, disintegrating masonry deluged the careening -robotruck. - -Hurtling around a blind corner, the truck aimed itself into a narrow -opening between buildings. Metal ground and screamed in abrasive -contact with stone but the robotruck rebounded and careened down -side alleys, around sharp corners, and over moving walks fortunately -deserted. With the nerveless skill of an old trucker, the girl wrestled -some sanity into the vehicle and chose her route from the most unlikely -possibilities. At last, after a splint through a tangle of dark avenues -and narrow alleys she brought the robotruck to a brake melting halt in -the deep shadow of high, blank-faced buildings. - -"See what I mean?" she said, voice loud and shrill in the silence that -seemed deafening with the motor cut out. - -Shuddering, the girl crouched behind the seat shield and fumbled inside -her garment for the gun, alert for signs of pursuit. - -"Relax," advised Torry. "We're alone for the moment. Wherever we are." - -"It's an abandoned warehouse. Belongs to my grandfather," she gasped. -"Can you get those boxes inside with only me to help." - -"Of course, if there's tackle, some wheels and a ramp." - -With a coded light-key the girl opened heavy doors and got necessary -equipment. Fortunately, she was stronger than she looked, and about -as fragile as steel wire. She gave Torry no more mercy than she gave -herself. It was still a mean job. - -Inside the vast, echoing interior, Torry and his companion seemed as -unimpressive as ants in an auditorium. Huge, vaulted lofts were dusty -with disuse. The huge cubes of the space crates looked like unmarked -dice, rolled by giants, and forgotten. - -Torry was tired and irritable. "I've played along with you," he said. -"Now that we're here I'd like some facts. Because of the boxes, I'll -assume your connection with Roper. Who are you, and what is all this -about?" - -"Don't you know?" demanded the girl. Laughing an icy trill, she threw -back the veiling spidersilk from head and face, bunching the material -neatly behind her neck. Her face was oddly elfin, and distorted to -curious proportions by the Martian half-mask of delicately etched -glass. Wide set eyes of periwinkle blue tilted at the corners, and the -smile of her sword-slash mouth was both teasing and disarming. Torry -was suddenly glad that there had been no such face as hers to remember -during his five-year exile. - -"I'm Tharol Sen," she murmured. "My grandfather is Sen Bas, the Martian -importer. Does that explain anything?" - -"It may," said Torry, "but not to me. I'm a stranger here, myself. Long -ago I was Roper's partner. We heard he was dead. You might say I'm -acting for his estate." - -"Roper is still alive, very much alive. And don't worry, he can look -after his own affairs." - -An ugly thought struck Torry, then, though he had gnawed at the idea -before. "You don't happen to be one of his affairs?" - -Her smile vanished. The dark hair swirled like black smoke as she -tossed her head. Her eyes turned dark and cold with the arrogant pride -of her ancient race. - -"That was a bad choice of words, partner," she said with a haughty -stare. "I have promised to marry Bart Roper." - -Anger surged hotly in Torry. - -"Bad choice of words for you, not me. Roper can't marry you or anyone -else. Whatever arrangement you have--" He stopped. "Did he happen to -mention a wife back on Earth?" He hoped the flash of resentment in him -was for Rose, not for himself. - -"Roper said she was dead," the girl answered. "Perhaps he believes she -is dead. In any case, it doesn't matter. Martian law does not recognize -marriages on other planets. He can pay her off and I'll see that he -forgets her." - -"Perhaps." Torry mastered himself. "I'd still like to know what I paid -all those credits for." - -"Why not open the boxes and find out?" - - * * * * * - -From a trapdoor locker she brought tools, an atomic torch and a huge -wrecking bar. The boxes yielded easily to persuasion. - -The first box, which was smaller, contained an assortment of lenses. -Banks of atomic-electric batteries hooked up into an intricate -arrangement of copper wire coils did not explain any puzzles. Nor did -the contents of the larger case, which were mainly a folding framework -of metal suspending endless layers of foil or metalcloth too finely -woven for the eye to follow. The foil or fabric was eery stuff, as -unsubstantial as curdled moonlight. Like liquid mercury, it seemed -almost alive as it crawled away from the touch. - -"I thought the only mirages you could buy came in bottles," commented -Torry unhappily. - -"Don't be a fool," rasped the girl in a strange tone. "It is a -mirage ... for Planet X. I thought you knew more since you knew Roper. -But I'll stand by my agreement. All or nothing, both ways. I'd better -explain. And now that you're in, try to act intelligent. I'll tell you -all I can, then we'd better get this equipment to ... to my grandfather -before anything else happens." - -A buzzer near the metal sliding doors droned a warning. The girl's face -turned upward toward a blinking red alarm light. - -"I'd say something was already happening," said Torry. - -"Someone's in the alley outside," gasped Tharol Sen. "It can't be the -police. They wouldn't dare interfere." - -"Then who?--" - -"Probably Ferax of Trans-U Miners Union. Or his strong-arm squad. If -they find us here with ... with that they'll kill both of us. I don't -know what to do." - -"Why don't you stop fooling with that silly blaster gun? Give it to me -and find yourself a hole to crawl in. This is my department. Let me do -the worrying." - -She laughed. "I might do just that." She handed over her pop-gun. It -was a typical woman's weapon, squat, flat and short-barreled. Up close -it could vaporize a man, but it would have no range worth mentioning. -Torry grinned at it in contempt. Motioning her out of the line of fire, -he crouched behind the wrecked crates. - -A heavy crash echoed through the cavern-like vaults as force was -applied to the metal doors. But the doors were dur-steel, two inches -thick. They held, but the interior reverberated with harsh metallic -clangor. Two more blows sounded, then a lengthening silence. A circle -of redness glowed incandescent on the metal, spreading over the panels -like spilled paint. Waves of heat sprang outward. Heat haze danced -in the cool air as visible vibrations of blinding crimson radiated -from the softening door. Runnels of melting steel channeled the metal -surface, dripping to spatter on floor. - -The girl was busy with something, but with his eyes riveted on the -door, Torry could not spare her any attention. He imagined she might be -trying to hide the contents of the boxes. - -"They'll be through in a minute," she whispered. - -Torry nodded. Drops of water splashed down suddenly. Torry felt it on -hands and face, glanced upward. Rain, inside a building in a domed -city! He must be crazy. But it was real. Drops became a deluge, -slashing down in increasing torrents. Water sizzled on the incandescent -door, and clouds of steam burst upward, obscuring everything. Pools -formed, joined. In moments the floor was inches deep in water. - -"Automatic sprinklers," said the girl. "Set for any upward shift of -temperature." - -Steam clouds cleared. A needle of light burned through. In rifts, Torry -saw the door dissolve, slide suddenly into a bubbling, spitting mass -that spread in fiery rush across the floor. In wild rush came dark -figures, dancing gingerly to avoid tongues of hot metal. Torry fired -carefully. He kept finger on stud until the blaster charge was used -up. He flung the useless weapon. But the dark figures were gone. The -doorway, with sagging leaves of soft metal, was empty. - -"That's all, sister," he said, turning. - -She was gone. Something like a blue flash whisked out of vision. -There was only the metal framework supporting a cylinder of the woven -quicksilver. And, as he watched, it vanished. - -More dark figures blocked the doorway. They came at him in a surge of -reckless violence. He stood up and met them with empty hands. Then -darkness struck through his brain. - - - III - -Torry opened one eye cautiously. He was in bed, a soft bed with clean -linens. Beside the bed loomed a monstrous figure. Something that might -have been, and was, a Venusian type-R mutant. It seemed not quite -human, and big even for a Venusian. But it was not a stranger. - -"Ferax!" whispered Torry, opening both eyes. - -"It's been a long time," said the Venusian in thick accents. - -"Not long enough." - -Ferax laughed brutally. His head was a hairless globe of coarse -leather, into which some humorist had punched a parody of human -features while the material was still pliable. Nothing about Ferax -looked pliable now. - -"You're still tough, Torry. And you're keeping fast company these days. -But you'll never learn to work with your brain instead of your fists or -a gun." - -Torry smiled with bruised, pulpy lips. "Look who's talking. You're -getting soft, Ferax. Last time your boys worked over Roper and me we -couldn't walk or talk for a week. And I hear you're in fast company -yourself since you gave up strike-breaking and took over union -racketeering. You may be a big name now, but you're as ugly as ever. -And to me, you'll always smell like the skunk in the perfume works." - -Ferax bellowed happily. "Smells are more subtle in higher brackets, -that's all. In a stinking world, nobody smells too pretty. Not even -you, and certainly not your girl friend--or is she Roper's?" - -"Tharol Sen? Roper's, I guess. You'll have to ask them. I barely saw -the girl myself. I just got in night before last, spent a day answering -questions for the police, then rested up one night before buying myself -a package of trouble. Nobody tells me anything, so I'll have to guess. -Is Roper behind this rat race?" - -Ferax grunted. "I could almost believe you don't know. So I'll tell -you. He's in with a Martian power grab. They need transuranic metals -to power their underground cities. The stuff is scarce and expensive. -Everyone's looking for new sources and we'll have to find some soon or -our whole economy will break down. The Martians are in the same jam, -desperate." - -"Roper has a new source?" - -"Not new. We all know where the metals are. Neptune's big moon, Triton. -And Pluto. The trouble is getting them out." - -Torry shook his head. "But you've mined under bad conditions before. -Triton and Pluto should be no worse than some." - -"Not the mining. Transportation. Freight rates from Pluto or Triton -would eat up all the profits. And take too much time. Who wants to -spend twelve years hauling in one shipload of ore? The answer is, -nobody. The Martians can afford the money since they're already paying -top rates for whatever we can supply. But we think Roper has a short -cut for transportation--" - -"If he has I'd better get in with him. Sounds like a very good profit." - -Ferax chuckled. "I know better than that. You and Roper hate each other -worse than you hate me. Besides, I can offer a better deal. He'll only -swindle you out of your cut, and you know it. Throw in with me and -you'll stay alive, plus a slice of whatever I take." - -"Are you serious about that? If so, I'll have to think it over. Is -there any use asking you where I can find Roper?" - -"No use at all," said Ferax, grinning. "I don't know. If I did, I'd -go there after him. If you do I'll have you followed. You always did -have a genius for picking the losing side, which makes it a pleasure to -fight you. You're free to go as soon as you're strong enough. If you -decide to play things my way, let me know. I'll give you a pass, day -or night. Getting into union headquarters is like breaking into the -mint. I live like a minor king, and the place is a fort." - -Torry snorted. "It's probably safer that way, when so many people hate -your guts." - -Ferax shrugged. "For that compliment I'll give you some free advice. -Don't tell the police about that shooting fray in the warehouse. You're -nobody, and the police would love to clear the union and your Martian -twirp by using you for scapegoat. You or the girl killed six of my best -hardheads. Also, if you see her or old Sen Bas, watch yourself. They're -both trickier than snakes and a lot more poisonous." - -"One thing more," said Torry. "What happened to the girl?" - -Ferax opened eyes wide. "You tell me. She was gone, along with the -stuff from the boxes. My men found you sprawled out unconscious from a -blow on the head. You were suckered, friend. Suckered." - -Ferax produced a metal ident card impregnated with coded electronic -inks. "This will keep you out of jail if your cop friend has any such -ideas. Also, it will get you in here to see me anytime, day or night, -if you change your mind." - -Torry laughed, but accepted the card uneasily. "That will be the day or -night...." - - * * * * * - -Like all police stations, the building reeked of unwashed bodies and -harsh disinfectants. In Grannar's office, Torry faced out the storm. - -"Amateur!" said Grannar in disgust. "Why did I ever get mixed up with -you?" - -Torry glared back at him. "Our lovey-dovey arrangement is brittle -enough to break off any time you want it that way." - -Grannar shook himself like a wet dog. "Not yet. Whether you know it or -not, you did pick up some interesting facts. I guess Tharol Sen has -tricked smarter men than you. And she'll probably keep that partnership -bargain, since Martians are funny about honor in a business deal. Since -she was the one at the auction we can assume that the Martians picked -up Roper from the wrecked escape ship and that he's alive." - -"I'm sure she knows where Roper is," said Torry. "Now if I knew where -to find her--" - -"That's easy enough," Grannar told him acidly. "Her grandfather has a -big place in the old Martian sector, about twenty acres on the surface -and Thol knows how many cubic miles of tunnels and cellars underground. -He calls himself an importer, and after his own quaint way, he is. Any -vice for a price. Sen Bas' Garden of Delights is a combination gambling -den, freak show, amusement park, carnival and emporium of forbidden -drugs and narcotic liquors. We've tried raiding the joint but gave that -up. Too risky, with their mines and booby traps, and the Martians just -scamper into the holes and get lost. Below ground is a rabbit warren of -caverns and tunnels and vaults that used to be for growing and curing -mushrooms and commercial molds. We know the girl is there, somewhere, -but--" - -"But you're afraid to go in after her?" - -"Not quite that. If ordered on regular police business I'd go poking -into even that Martian hornet's nest. But we have nothing on her or Sen -Bas, and only a suspicion that Roper's hiding there. Since you muffed -something easy, like the auction, I doubt if you could manage to get -in, let alone locate her or Roper." - -"Who says I muffed anything?" demanded Torry irritably. "I know what -was in the boxes, though I didn't tell the girl I knew. It's a matter -transmitter, the only one in the Solar System. An inventor back on -Earth was knocked on the head and his working model stolen. He's alive, -but has lost his memory, and the plans were taken along with the model. -Roper's big secret is stolen property, but getting it back may be a -problem. I didn't guess what it was till the girl used it to escape -from the warehouse. Probably they want the thing to bring back heavy -metal ores from Triton or Pluto. I've learned more in three days than -you did in four years." - -Grannar bowed sardonically. "Oh, sure. I apologize. And now I'm sure -you can lay hands on a man with a perfect escape method--from anywhere -to anywhere. The ratholes were bad enough, but this really does it." - -"The girl is still a good lead," said Torry quietly. "I'm going after -her. Are you, or do I have to ask help from Ferax?" - -"Suit yourself about Ferax. I won't risk my job on a chance Roper -might be there--" - -"How much is your job worth?" asked Torry, with a sneer. - -Grannar's face twitched. "For half that dough you threw away at the -auction, I could buy a plankton farm on Earth...." - -Torry licked his lips and left. Back at the hotel he cashed a bank -draft and put twenty thousand credits in currency into an envelope with -a note and sent it to Grannar. The note began: - - _I've always wanted to buy a policeman. Now you can afford to do - your job. I'm seeing Ferax first, but with or without his help, - I'm going after Roper._ - -Terse instructions followed. Torry did not expect too much of Grannar, -but the man represented law and authority as far as either existed on -Mars, and dealing with Roper, Ferax, and the Martians all at once was -scarcely a one-man job. - - * * * * * - -Trans-U Miners Union housed itself in a citadel remarkable even on -Mars. It occupied the center of a large area, cleared, floodlighted -and surrounded by a charged wire fence. Inside the defense circle were -booby traps triggered for the first careless step off marked pathways -patrolled by robot guards. Torry's metal ident card got him through the -gateway by tripping electronic relays, and each incorruptible robot -guard passed him after being shown the card. - -At the building doorway he had to satisfy a series of dubious and hard -bitten human questioners, but his pass and the magic name of Ferax got -him inside. - -Doors opened. Robot voices directed him across echoing lobbies to a -bank of elevators. In a locked cage he descended five floors below -surface level. In the corridor another bodiless voice spoke: - -"End of the hall. Door on the right." - -Torry followed directions. The ritual was getting on his nerves. His -footsteps echoed hollowly. The place smelled damp and moldy as a -tomb. Opening the door on the right with a wave of his keyed pass, he -realized that it was, in a sense, a tomb. There was a body in it. A -dead body. - -Ferax sprawled across an ornate desk of Venusian chibar wood and -kru-leather. - -Luminous particles from a blaster discharge still danced in the air. -A lingering bite of charred, exploding flesh stung the nostrils. -There was little left of the torso, but a lolling globular head -identified the corpse. A discarded gun clanked as Torry's foot kicked -it. He hesitated, then picked it up and renewed the charge. It was an -automatic reflex of defense, and fingerprint evidence was not likely -to matter now. If found on the spot he would have little chance for -explanations. - -The thing had happened only minutes ago. Whoever did it, the killer -must still be close at hand. A roving flicker of pale radiance warned -Torry that a scanner was in use. By whom? From where? No complex mental -processes were needed to convince Torry that he was in a bad spot. -The goon squads were notorious for acting first and asking questions -afterwards. - -Getting into the citadel to see Ferax had been interesting enough. -Getting out again promised to be more so. If he ever got out. - -The office door was opening slowly. Silently Torry glided behind -it. Reaching around it, he snatched cloth and flesh and dragged a -struggling form into the room. - -"Tharol Sen!" The girl was panting, her periwinkle eyes wide and glazed -with horror. - -Torry subdued her writhings by jamming the blaster muzzle hard into her -flesh. - -"Talk low," he ordered. "But talk fast. Why did you kill Ferax?" - -"I didn't. I found him like that, just a moment ago. I heard the -blaster and looked in quickly. Then I hid in the office across. I heard -something and came back here. That's all I know." Her voice ended on a -wail. - -Torry jerked up the elfin face and studied it savagely. For some reason -he believed her. But there was more to explain, even if someone else -had killed the labor racketeer, and little time for explanations. - -"How did you get in here?" he snapped. "And why?" - -She threw back her head in a characteristic gesture. Her eyes sparkled. - -"Roper had come here. He was so long that I got worried. I came -through...." She stopped talking suddenly. - -"Through the transmitter? I know about it, so you can call it by the -right name." - -Tharol Sen nodded numbly. - -"That means Roper killed him." - -The girl jerked angrily. "Bart Roper wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill -an unarmed man. Probably you killed him, and just want to throw the -blame on ... on us." - -Torry ignored her. "Roper would be too smart to leave any evidence. So -I'll leave it for him." From his pocket he took a small lighter with a -name engraved on it, quickly scrubbed it free of prints and dropped it -on the floor as if it had fallen in the excitement of murder. It would -not carry conviction, but it would be proof of Roper's presence and his -reputation would do the rest. - -"You fool," said Tharol Sen. "I'm a witness, and I saw you do that. -I'll testify." - -"Do that," taunted Torry viciously, "if it ever comes to a trial. -Who'll believe you? And I don't think the strong arm boys will wait -for a trial. If you can get back through that transmitter screen, we'd -better do it before someone finds us here." - -"Take you?" she snarled. "I'd rather die here." - -"You have that choice." - -She changed her mind. Torry did not misread the flash of wicked triumph -on her face. He did not have to. - -"All right," she yielded. "Bart Roper will know how to take care of -you. Come ahead, if you dare. The transmitter screen is in the opposite -office." - -Torry sighed bitterly. "I'll chance Roper. I've already had one session -with the goons." - - * * * * * - -The quicksilver screen was three-dimensional, and possibly four, since -it seemed to exist in two places at once and linked them without -regard to intervening distance. It was a hollow cylinder supported by -metal framework, and the insubstantial fabric glowed and pulsed with -electrical current. Inside was darkness and a sense of infinite space. -Walking through the odd fabric one encountered nothing material, but -a prickling touched every skin surface, then soaked through the bone -centers. - -Leaving the force field of the screen was more exhilarating, and -almost painful. It was like breaking an electrical contact; muscles -jerked spasmodically, hair stood on end, and hot sparks discharged from -any moist portions of the skin. Torry had not realized how drenched his -body was in cold sweat. He stepped out, gasping. - -He stepped into paradise, or hell. Unreality. - -Martian subcellar gardens are startling to outsiders. In the air -was the bitter tang of narcotic incense. Smoke distorted vision. -Nightmarish fantasies of mobile murals in rich colors writhed on the -walls. The ceiling was an illusion of sky and stars, complete with -intricacies of celestial mechanics, and the flooring resembled grassy -sward, set with miniature pools and cool, gurgling streams, crossed by -arching bridges of carved and tined ivory. Singing birds and trilling -winged serpents filled the air with sound and motion. Luminous bubbles -rose and burst above lighted, musical fountains. Musicians toyed with -the acrid melodies of ancient Mars, and only close inspection proved -the dancing girls 3-d projections. - -It was a painstaking reproduction, pitiful and exquisite, of the richly -barbaric and luxuriant youth of a now-dying planet. To a Martian, it -would have been nostalgic and lovely. To Torry, fresh from the scent of -blood and death, it was a garish mockery, like a painted corpse. - -Torry recoiled painfully, both from the setting and from the living man -who seemed part of it. - -Sen Bas was as dried and shriveled as a Martian mummy. Only his eyes -seemed alive. - -"You can put away your gun," said Sen Bas, his wrinkled face a mask of -malicious humor. "You are in no danger here." - -Oddly, there was no feeling of menace, and Torry found himself putting -away his weapon. Will power beat from Sen Bas as it does from hypno -machines, and his personality held fearful compulsion. - -"But he's--" began Tharol Sen hysterically. - -Still smiling, Sen Bas nodded like a bizarre doll with a swinging -pendulum attached to its head. "No matter. Since we made a deal with -Roper when we picked him up off Phobos, we must do as he says ... in -some matters. Roper has gone ahead. He wants this man, Torry, sent to -him ... there. There is use for him ... where Roper has gone. Until -then, he is our guest, and we must show him every courtesy." - -Torry studied the old man calmly. "You can use place names, Sen Bas. I -know about the transuranics on Triton and Pluto. But how could Roper -have gone ahead when we were using the transmitter? It can't be three -places at once." - -Sen Bas frowned. "No, it cannot. Unfortunately, it has many -limitations. This is a second model copied by my engineers for study -and experiment. To our distress we have learned that ores of the heavy -metals cannot be transmitted since their radioactivity has an effect -on the force field. But now, with trouble coming, this model must be -destroyed." - -From a pouch Sen Bas drew a tiny sub-sonic whistle upon which he blew -a soundless note. Martian technicians quickly appeared. Sen Bas issued -commands, and the transmitter was rapidly dismantled and removed to -incinerators. - -"Good idea," approved Torry. "Ferax is dead. The police--" - -"I know. The transmitter is not as instantaneous as it seems to the -user. Time also is distorted, as well as space. Hours have passed. You -are the last person known to have seen Ferax, so you are wanted by the -police and others for questioning. I was not certain you would come -through the screens, so my agents are scouring the city for you. Roper -has gone ahead to Triton, and wants you to join him there where we can -make contact." - -"How long will that take?" - -Sen Bas blinked. "Who knows? My scientists say it depends on the -relative positions of Triton and Mars. The best time will be in five -or six days, but you may have to go sooner. Tharol Sen can show -you around, and when the time is right, she will take you to the -transmitter. It is securely hidden where the police will not find it. -In the meantime--" - -"I'm a prisoner?" - -Sen Bas giggled. "Not exactly. Say, my guest. Your only jailers are -outside. Let us hope they will stay there until you can go to Roper ... -as he requested." - -"Roper must have been in a hurry to get away," grated Torry. - -"He was. For excellent reasons. A Solar Survey ship is due off Triton -at any time. Roper wanted to be in sole possession of the satellite, -with samples to make good his claims to minerals." - -Suddenly, everything happened at once. Shrill alarms blared from a -dozen quarters. Red lights flared ominously. A fusillade of shots broke -out. - -Sen Bas swore luridly in Martian. "The police!" - -Heavy explosions thundered overhead. The ceiling cracked, opened wide. -An avalanche of steel and stone and breaking glass roared into the -subcellar gardens. Dust clouds blinded Torry. - - - IV - -From the collapsing roof tons of debris poured into the underground -gardens and spread over the floor like advancing mountains. Dust -choked, Torry staggered blindly before it in panic to avoid being -caught and buried. It was like a swift, deadly race with an engulfing -landslide. - -Free of the confusion and deafening tumult, he turned to look about -for Sen Bas and the girl. In the dust cloud it was impossible to see -anything. Masses of masonry and fused glass from the collapsing cavern -roof continued to detach themselves and crash down in random uproar. -Cautiously, Torry picked his way over the mounds of rubble, searching. - -A feeble cry led him to Sen Bas. The aged Martian looked like a -tattered bundle of red rags. Half buried under a hillock of shattered -stone and twisted steel, the old man showed little sign of life, save -for still-glittering eyes and husks of sound emerging from bloodless -lips. Spreading stains of red seeped from beneath the prisoning blocks. - -"If I can lift the stones, can you drag yourself out?" asked Torry. - -"Don't--think--so!" gasped Sen Bas. - -"Where can I find help?" - -"Don't try. Go--quickly. Save yourself. The alarms--police--maybe union -killers. Go--" - -"Not yet," snapped Torry. "We'll worry about the rest after I get you -out." - -The old man protested. "I'm--old. Does not matter. Get to--transmitter. -My people must have--" - -Ignoring him, Torry worked. Feverishly he searched for and found a -length of reinforcing steel. With it, he dug into debris of glass and -stone and tortured steel. Mass by mass, he levered it up and rolled it -aside. Fingers raw, steel bending in his hands, he strained to uncover -the writhing, bleeding form of Sen Bas. At last he wedged up the -last mass and reached under to drag out the ancient Martian. Sen Bas -screamed as he came free, but the agony left his face. - -"You're hurting him," raged Tharol Sen. She stumbled toward them, her -face a mask of hate. - -"No!" cried Sen Bas. Gathering breath, he whispered, "He saved me." -Then pallor flooded his pinched features. - -Torry knelt beside him, not even looking at the girl. "Shut up!" he -ordered. "Get bandages--painkilling drugs. He's badly crushed, bleeding -to death. Don't argue. Hurry!" - -Sen Bas blinked. "Do as he says...." Tharol Sen disappeared. - -Alone, Sen Bas stared curiously at his rescuer. "I should have ordered -you both to the transmitter. My men could care for me ... if it -matters." - -"Not soon enough. Roper can wait." - -Sen Bas shook his head. "Roper might. My people cannot. We need heavier -metals to power our underground cities. We are a dying race." - -"You're a dying man. Don't talk." - -The old Martian composed his features with great dignity. "What better -time? Our need is desperate. We must claim the transuranics on Triton. -Even though they must be freighted here, since they cannot be brought -through the transmitter. We tried it, and failed. You know Roper. Will -he deal fairly with us?" - -Torry shook his head sadly. "No." - -Sen Bas did not seem surprised. "I feared that. Will you?" - -"I'll try, though I'll have to do what seems best when I get to it." - -Sen Bas relaxed. "That is good enough. Did you come to Mars to kill -him?" - -A shiver wrenched Torry, his eyes glazed. "I haven't decided yet." - -"Perhaps it would be best. But he will not be easy to kill. Tharol Sen -will take you to him. Perhaps by the time fate has to choose between -you and Roper, her blindness will be gone, and she can make a clear -choice of her own...." - -"How did you--" - -With a convulsive grimace, Sen Bas was dead. Moments later, when Tharol -Sen appeared loaded with medical supplies, Torry glared at her. Her -face a chalk mask, she whimpered. - -"Forget it," Torry said angrily. "It's too late for tears." - -"Why did you try to save him?" - -"If you have to ask, you'd never understand." - -Tharol Sen shuddered. "I don't understand anything about you. Who you -are. Why you hate us so--" - -"Who says I do?" - -"Roper. He says--" - -"Never mind what he says. I suppose there's no use trying to convince -you that he never tells the truth if a lie will serve as well. He's -a known criminal, a thief and swindler, and even a murderer. A man -who abandoned his wife on Earth, and a small child he's never seen. -Frankly, I don't understand you, and I'm not sure I'd want to. You're -quite determined to marry him?" - -"Quite." Tharol Sen stiffened. - -"Well, that's your hard luck. He's no good. No good for you, or anyone. -Not even for himself." - -"Nothing you can say matters. He told me about that wife. She's too -sane, too normal and practical for him. He thinks that I--" - -Torry was not listening. Contrasting Tharol Sen with Rose, he was -almost inclined to agree with Roper, and envy him such a loyal and -spirited defender. The girl was pure-blood Martian, with all the eery -beauty of the strange race. She was young but vibrantly alive and -human. There was emotional depth in her, and a passionate savagery that -might inspire a man to passion, or to devotion, depending upon the man. - -"Besides," finished Tharol Sen, "there is no other man like him." - -"Not quite like him, fortunately." Torry laughed bitterly. "I'm a lot -like him, if you haven't noticed. But nicer ... and sometimes smarter." - -"That's a matter of opinion," she said acidly. "Yours and mine. But you -do resemble him. You're ... you're not--" - -"I'm afraid I am. I'm ashamed to admit it, but Bart Roper and I had the -same mother. He's my half-brother." - - * * * * * - -Her face was puzzled. "Then why--" - -Torry tightened visibly. "I don't know. Or maybe I just don't want to -face it yet. We hate each other as only brothers can. You'd better know -that before you take me to him. I may have to kill him." - -Tharol Sen sneered. "I don't think you can kill him. I'll take you to -him because both Roper and my grandfather wanted me to. Roper can deal -with you as he sees fit. But if I think you're a danger to him, I'll -kill you. Understand that." - -Torry shrugged. "On that basis I'll accept your help. Now you'd better -find that transmitter. I suspect that the explosions were the police or -the goon squads breaking in." - -"They were," she said nastily. "They ran into booby traps in the upper -levels. It will take them a while." - -"I wouldn't count on too much time," warned Roper. "Grannar is a smart -policeman, and the goon squads seemed to know their work." - -"This way." - -Tharol Sen was coldly aloof, and seemed both preoccupied and depressed, -which was natural. She went ahead, wordlessly, and Torry followed, -lost in his own reflections. At the far end of Sen Bas' wrecked garden -was a steel-arched doorway, high, sombre and gothic. Beyond, and -below, lay the sprawling vastness of vaults and caverns which was the -Martian underworld. Long, curvings ramps led downward into a complex of -subsurface workings far below New Chicago. - -They descended and slipped quietly across large, echoing platforms -whose dimensions were lost in gloom. Metal-shod stairways spiraled -upward and downward into invisible infinities. Deep shafts vibrated -with strange sounds the ear could not catch or identify. Freight -tunnels were yawning maws of darkness, like the staring, sightless -eyes of some mythical monster created on too large a scale for man to -understand. - -Torry grew tense and nervous. He began to sense patterns of shivering, -eery movement about him. Walls and ceilings closed in suddenly, and -he could make out vague, monstrous forms set into niches within walls -carved of bedrock. Old-Martian gods in sculpture--leering stone -spectres, goblin-like, and subtly obscene. - -Tharol Sen paused. Her hand sought Torry's and drew him close, but not -in friendliness. She whispered harshly, warning him to silence and -extreme caution. - -"I was wrong. The police have broken through. Some are already in the -vaults." - -She followed a maze of barely visible threadlike guidelines of -luminosity set into the metallic tiling. A few steps more brought them -to a wide platform, from which many tunnel mouths opened. Along one -wall ranged banks of elevators. Beyond were ranks of empty pneumatic -tube cars on tracks which angled in sharp descent into wells a level -below the platform. Spidery Martian hieroglyphs labeled various shafts -and the tube terminals. Tharol Sen studied the markings closely before -making her choice. - -"I have been here only once before," she complained. "It is not easy to -find the way. But I think the police will have more trouble." - -She selected a pneumatic tube car. Torry boosted her to the door flap. -She settled herself in the tiny seat cradle, then from inside, extended -him a helping hand. For the first time she noticed his blistered palms -and raw fingers. He grunted painfully as she drew him up beside her. - -"I should have bandaged your hands," she mused. - -Torry snorted. "Can you drive this shuttle? It has more gadgets than a -space ship." - -"One way to find out," murmured Tharol Sen icily, poking a slim -finger at a keyboard of colored studs. Distant machinery whirred and -whined. Flaps banged shut and the shuttle car shot forward and down at -sickening speed. Tharol Sen laughed, and the sound was of ice chips -trickling on metal foil. - -Air whipped angrily about the shell of thin metal. There was no gut -wrenching nausea of acceleration, only sharp awareness of speed. -Movement became a blur streaming past the transparent plastic cartop. -It was like being part of a hollow missile fired from an air gun. As -the car's original impetus diminished, speed dwindled. The car dipped -and slowed, then ran into a stop valve, like a piston in a closed -cylinder, and stopped on a dense cushion of compressed air. - -Another vista of platforms radiated away from the terminal. - -Gripping Torry's hand, Tharol Sen dragged him firmly along the -platform, then down a steep slant to the lowest levels. At intervals, -radilumes provided glaring light, but shadows of raw fantasy lingered -curiously near the walls. Tomblike oppression gathered around them. -Panic grows quickly underground; weight of rock pressing overhead -translates itself to the brain in terms of claustrophobia. - - * * * * * - -Metallic decking became raw stone floor, and an endless tunnel unwound -before them. Torry lost all track of direction, even the primary up -and down. They went through underground workings like city streets -lined with open front factories. Gray, barren vistas of workrooms were -relieved by the stark symmetries of sleek machines, shielded atomic -converters, and patiently revolving turbines. Here was the marvelously -efficient underground economy of the old Martian civilization, still -functioning and serving the remnants of a great race of builders and -scientists. - -On soaring cantilevered balconies and in alcoves, Torry glimpsed cliff -like structures of offices and dwellings. Giant compressors labored to -force a mighty pulse of breakable air--but the atmosphere was warm, -dry and stifling. Runnels of sweat ran down Torry's body and vanished -in quick evaporation; fever and exertion alternated in him; he blew -hot and cold as energy burned away too quickly, and as drying sweat -produced intense, quick chills. Temperatures dropped. Air seemed denser -and was poisonously clouded with dust, but it was cool. Slowly it -became chill and depressing with a hint of dampness in it. They came -into a maze of galleries and pits, tunnels and vaults, less used and -uninhabited portions of the deep-workings. - -It was like a world apart, a place of dim storage bins with natural -refrigeration, of packing sheds piled high with mountains of commercial -molds, bales of dry, compressed and packed mushrooms. It smelled stale -and foul, the air hideous with a powdery mist of mold dust and spores, -and the incredible mustiness of mushroom spoilage. These caverns were -empty of life, as if the troglodyte Martians had long ago joined their -mummied dead. - -Weakness suddenly caught up with Torry. Dizzy, he caught in panic at -Tharol Sen for support. Grudgingly, after a moment's hesitation, she -granted the help. - -"I'm sorry," Torry apologized. "It's been a rather active three days. I -guess Ferax and his boys hurt me more than I had thought." - -"They are good at hurting people," admitted the girl. "You still want -to go on in this condition?" - -"Don't mind me. Just give me a minute." Torry was painfully aware of -her strong, slender body beneath the filmy garments of spidersilk. To -change the subject, he said, "Don't tell me you're planning to venture -out to Pluto or Triton in that costume?" - -Tharol Sen made a face. "Hardly. There are spacesuits ready. We'll need -them, don't worry. Roper says Triton is hardly livable at all, even -protected. You'll find out if you've the nerve to go through with me." - -"So Planet X is not even a planet, just one of Neptune's moons?" - -"Perhaps it was a planet once. Both Pluto and Triton are not like the -rest of the solar system planets. They may have been two stray worlds -from outer space, captured long ago by our sun. For their size they -have mass out of all proportion. The quantities of heavy metals beyond -uranium give them extreme weight and density. Pluto has a density of -over fifty times that of water. Triton not so much, but still greater -by far than Earth's density, which is roughly five or six times that of -water. Though smaller than Mercury or Ganymede, Triton has a gravity -only slightly less than Earth's and a far denser atmosphere blanket." - -Torry laughed grimly. "That's a big speech for you." - -"Too long a speech," she agreed irritably. "Especially with the police -close behind us." - -Torry sighed. "Okay. We'll go on. This is a lot of trouble over one -slimy mirage salesman." - -"Mirage salesman? Why do you call him that?" - -"Simple enough. That's all he's ever peddled. Pot of gold at the end of -the rainbow to tempt the greedy and unwary. And rainbows are circular, -with no beginning and no end. Haven't you ever heard the term?" - -"I have now. I wondered, that's all. There are mirages on Triton. He'll -have plenty to sell." - -Torry snorted. "I can see you've bought one." - -Flasher signals on the wall began to blink rapidly. - -They moved steadily onward, faster than before, into a still more -shadowy region. Light itself seemed to exist only at long intervals -where age-old radilumes performed a feeble service. The spongy floor -of rotten bedrock was scummed over with moss to make for slippery -footing. Formations of natural rock seemed like stage furniture -designed by elves and gnomes, in which stone mimicked monstrosities of -the vegetable world. Fat, knotted stalagmites suggested tree trunks, -and the darkness overhead appeared like shadowy densities of foliage. -Seepage had fretted the walls into lacy limestone traceries like a fern -forest. They went on, with tense silence savage between them. - -Alarm blinkers flashed light codes of rapid pursuit. - -"Your people must have had much contact with the police to have worked -out such a set-up," observed Torry. - -Tharol Sen nodded. "We have been persecuted for centuries. Not many -Earthfolk have ever been here. Nor any others but my own people." - -"Yet the police seem to be finding their way." - -Tharol Sen frowned. "That puzzles me," she admitted. "How could they -come here at all unless someone has betrayed us?" - -From close behind sounded the loud buzzing of a radiation detector. A -thin pencil beam flashed at them and splashed wetly over the cavern -wall ahead. Rock shattered in a brittle, crunchy explosion. Murderous -chips deluged the tunnel. - -Torry lunged at the girl, dragging her down in a savage fall. More -beams of light licked out, this time from several directions. -Continuous thunders roared and reverberated, stunning ears and brains -with concussion and sound. Roughly, Torry thrust the girl into a wall -niche for shelter. - -"The police!" wailed Tharol Sen. - -"Looks as if we're trapped. We'd better give ourselves up." - -She stared at him with contempt. "You still have your gun. If you're -afraid, give it to me." - -"One gun against a dozen. No thanks." - -Waiting for a lull in the blast uproar, Torry called out. His voice -rang hollowly in the cavern, still shuddering with echoes of the -explosions. - -"Hold your fire. We're coming out." - -Grannar's voice answered. "Throw out your gun first." - -Torry complied. His gun rattled on the floor of rock. - -Pushing Tharol Sen sullenly before him, Torry stood clear. In a moment, -the tunnel was full of uniformed figures. - -Grannar studied Torry with some amusement. "You needn't have gone so -fast. I got your note, but your trail ran into a dead end at Ferax's -office. It took time to pick it up again but we found it beside Sen -Bas' body in his gardens. Clever deal, Torry. Using radioactive dust on -your shoes like that. Shall we handcuff Tharol Sen and take her back?" - -"No," answered Torry glumly. "She's going to show us the way to Roper." - -"So you betrayed us?" asked Tharol Sen, contempt making her face ugly. - -"That's a matter of opinion." - -Grannar broke in. "Better pick up your gun, Torry. You may need it. How -many men shall we take?" - -Torry shrugged. "That depends on the number of spacesuits available. -How many, Tharol Sen?" - -"Three," she replied bitterly. "Do you think two of you dare tackle -Roper alone?" - -"I think so. How about it, Grannar?" - -The policeman grunted. - -The matter transmitter was already set up. Upon its folding framework -the screen glittered like woven quicksilver, vibrating to the hum of -electro magnetic flow. - -"Will this take us directly to Roper?" asked Grannar. - -"Not quite," said Torry, grinning. "It's a delicate adjustment. Mars -and Neptune both in motion, and Triton's orbit and axial rotation to -consider. We'll be somewhere on Triton--" - -"But Triton has more land surface than Earth. Can we find--" - -Torry gestured. "She'll find him for us. Have your men stand by and -switch on the transmitter every three hours." - -Dressed for space, the three entered the screen. - - - V - -Planet X--or Neptune's moon, Triton--was a vast mirage with many -facets. Atmosphere was as dense and still as water in ocean deeps. Sky -was cloudless, but not clear, apparently built up of different layers -of gases, and the light was both glaring and erratic. At a distance of -over three and a half billion miles from the Sun, most of the light -was not sunlight, and the little that came through the air ocean was -filtered and absorbed into curious colors and intensities. Other -illumination sources were auroral displays, radioactive hotspots that -glowed like eery ghosts, and volcanic outbursts of crimson or gold. - -Surface pressure of the atmospheric ocean was extreme, and the gas -densities and weird light gave an uncanny submarine illusion. Venturing -onto the surface of Triton, Torry felt like a diver in that long-past -period when man's last frontier on Earth had seemed the ocean deeps. -Gravity, greater than on Mars, but less than Earth's, gave a sense of -buoyancy; the spacesuiting was not unlike ancient diving costume; and -the thickness of the atmosphere itself suggested deep, still water. - -Most disturbing of all were the mirages. All the familiar effects of -Earth mirages were present but magnified and even multiplied into -infinite complexities. To a scientist of optics or meteorology, Triton -would be a superb laboratory. To Torry, it was-- - -Near madness...! - -Mirages by hundreds and thousands floated between surface and zenith, -or hugged the ground like captive nightmares. Pinnacled dream mountains -rose from bases of empty air. Phantom battlements and mock castles -stormed upward from nothing. Magnified rockeries became goblin cities, -looming near or far in equal scale. Water glittered in the sky and -on the ground, and floating debris became fleets of fairy argosies. -Lateral mirages played eery jokes with distance. All images seemed -unreal, and diffraction haloed them with misty, rainbow coloring. - -Triton itself was bleak, savage, merciless, nearly windless but for -vagrant currents of slow-moving dense air, like currents in an ocean. - -By levels, temperatures were absurdly high or low, depending upon -location or freak circumstances. It was a lifeless world, inhospitable -to man. But it wore a mask and costume of exotic, lying beauty, and -masquerade was hard to distinguish from the harsh reality. Anything -definite was hard to distinguish. - -Grannar turned up the microphone in his helmet, and his words rattled -from Torry's speaker. - -"How can we find Roper in such a madhouse as this?" he roared. - -Torry winced as the amplified outburst thundered in his ears. - -"Simple enough," he replied. "Fine detective you are. There's a radio -compass built into Tharol Sen's suit. Roper's sending all the time. -She'll go to him like a homing pigeon." - -"Pigeon is right," muttered Grannar. "Hope it's not too far. A little -more of this would make me neurotic. Can we trust her?" - -Torry laughed. "Yes and no. She hates us, but she'll lead us to Roper. -That transmitter is his only way back to Mars. And hers, too. Isn't -that right, Tharol Sen?" - -Fortunately her reply did not come through clearly. - -Following the radio compass, which behaved erratically due to magnetic -discharges, they moved through the wilderness of the mirages. Progress -was deceptive, without reliable landmarks. Rugged terrain made -treacherous going. Megalithic cities and monstrous mountains appeared -and disappeared like patterns in a kaleidoscope. In the eccentric -lighting, vision itself seemed to flicker as treacherously as a three-d -projector running out of balance. Constant distortions and fading out -produced mental nausea and physical insecurity. - -Torry was not sure where his next step would take him. One instant he -seemed to flounder on the edge of abyss. The next, he would be climbing -what seemed an interminable mountain, only to have solid floors of rock -shimmer and vanish before his eyes. It was impossible to see where they -were going, or even be certain what it was like where they had just -been. Only the needle of the radio compass held any steadiness at all, -and that jerked into wild whirlings now and then as magnetic currents -ebbed and flowed in the ground. - -They seemed, through rifts in the mirages, to be traversing a monstrous -field of jagged boulders, inclined slightly upward. Even these rocks -were not always as substantial as they looked, but for the most part, -they were real obstacles. The thought crossed Torry's mind that it -would be a bad place for an ambush if Roper were so inclined. - -When the facts materialized his fears, the pencil beam of a blaster -cutting through the mirages seemed only part of a dazzling auroral -display. - - * * * * * - -The explosion that followed demonstrated its reality. Rock chips and -larger fragments rained about them. In the dense medium of atmosphere, -the shock wave was terrific, and even his spacesuit did not completely -insulate the blow. All three were flung about as if by earthquake. -Torry missed his footing and went down in a long sprawl, which saved -his life. - -The second blaster flash would have targeted him dead center. It -flickered harmless over him, touched the nearby boulders to sudden -glare, then lost itself in fearful detonation. Dodging the hail of -debris, Torry crawled quickly to shelter behind a larger boulder. With -gauntleted hands, he tested its solidity before he trusted himself to -relax. - -A harsh cry of pain and terror echoed in his ears. Its tones held -desperation. And the voice was Grannar's. - -By concentrating Torry could dimly make out the figure of the -detective. Grannar lay in a tumbled heap, threshing wildly and trying -to hold shut great rents in his space suit. He seemed to be injured, -for one leg was motionless while the rest of his body worked in -convulsions. - -Torry left his shelter and bounded toward the casualty. He bundled -Grannar roughly to his feet and hustled him into the nearest tangle -of solid rocks. A hastily aimed blaster beam hurried him at the task. -Crouching down, he examined Grannar. The policeman was conscious, -swearing valiantly. His leg was broken. Inside the space suit it would -be impossible to set the fracture. And outside, the toxic gases of -Triton would make short work of human breathing. Even the rents in the -suiting were dangerous. - -Working quickly, Torry clipped together the rents and sealed them -hermetically with compound from the repair kits. - -"That's the best I can do," he told the policeman grimly as his eyes -searched in vain for a sign of Roper. "You'll have to stand the rest -till we can get out of here and back to Mars." - -"What are our chances of getting out?" - -A man does not shrug in a spacesuit. "Not good," said Torry. "Roper can -keep us pinned here as long as he likes." - -"How long d'you think that'll be?" - -Torry grunted. "Till he gets tired of it and decides to stalk us and -kill us. Or till I go out and get him." - -"I see. It's like that, eh? Where's the girl?" - -"Who knows? She's either hiding out in the rocks, like us, or she's -found a way to join Roper. Does it matter?" - -"Not to me," mused Grannar. "I just hoped maybe she wasn't as rotten as -Roper ... that she might give us a chance." - -"Don't count on it," said Torry spitefully. "She might be as pure as an -angel, but Roper's sold her a bill of goods. Feeling as she does about -him, she'd kill either of us as quickly as Roper would." - -They waited in silence, while mirages came and went around them, -as light shifted, or slight currents stirred in the turbid air. If -Roper were a mirage salesman, he had certainly made his stand in the -wholesale house. Under other circumstances, Torry might have found -the displays interesting, even entertaining--but at the moment, his -reflections were as poisonous as the air on Triton. - -Colors flared and faded like a cross-spectrum of inferno. - -Grannar was restless with the pain in his leg. His squirming infected -Torry, who leaned out above the barrier of rocks waving his hand -violently. As he hoped, he attracted attention. A thin wire of light -kissed the rocks of the barrier. Chips pelted like hail, and the force -of the blast set up thunderous echoes in his helmet. - -"He must have rigged a scanner of some sort. Such shooting is too good -for a man with mirages in his eyes. Would something like infra-red -help?" - -"I don't know," groaned Grannar. "In any case, we haven't the time or -the means to work out a scanner." - -"I think I'll try crawling out of here. If I keep low, I might be able -to work around and come up behind him. Is it all right with you if I -give it a try?" - -"Why not? Outside of your life, what have you got to lose?" - -"I hate to leave you here unless you want it that way. But there's not -much future for you, anyhow, if I stay." - -"Do whatever you like. I guess I owe you something, and I like to pay -my debts. Any other last wishes?" - -"Just one. I want him...." - -"Roper? You want to kill him?" Grannar sounded baffled. - -"Kill or cure." - -"I don't understand." - -"You want him on Mars for murder. He's wanted on Earth for lesser -crimes. That gives you priority. You can demand and get extradition -for him to Mars, which means quick death in the atomic disintegrators, -or slow death in the prison mines. On Earth, they have a clinic for -incurables like Roper. It's a free choice for them, euthanasia or -voluntary submission to the clinic." - -Grannar hesitated. "I know about that. But isn't such a treatment -almost as dangerous as being killed outright, and a lot tougher on the -subject?" - -"It can be," granted Torry flatly. "Sometimes the hypnotic -memory-blanking or the shock treatment wrecks the brain. And the -glandular surgery and hormone dosage can turn a man into a freak and -monster. If it works, the criminal is rebuilt mentally and morally, -re-created with a new personality, and completely new educational -background. He's hardly the same man, and often his old friends can't -recognize him physically." - -Grannar's eyes narrowed. "In Roper's case, that might be an advantage. -Of course I'm familiar with the clinic and its work in rehabilitating -incorrigibles. But do you think any treatment could work the miracle -with Roper?" - -"I don't know and don't care. People like Roper help make life colorful -and interesting. But they're too hard on everyone around them. His -adolescent-stasis carries his own damnation for him. He's miserably -unhappy, along with everyone who knows him. He imagines he's smarter -and superior to other people, and that it's his duty to prey on them. -Mentally, he's a rotten-spoiled child. But a dangerous one. Like the -one rotten apple, he spreads his rottenness through the whole barrel." - -"I'm familiar with that theory of crime but I don't go along with it. -I'm not convinced you can unspoil a rotten apple, and I doubt if it's -worth while to try." - -"No matter," said Torry grimly. "If they fail on him, they'll destroy -him. Either way, it will make a better world for everyone. Probably I -hate him more than you do. But I'm willing to give him this last chance -if you'll let me." - -Grannar laughed ironically. "Have it your way, if you can take him. -It's out of my hands, actually. Though, as a cop, I'd be better -satisfied if you burned him down here, I'll settle for your clinic. -It's a nasty enough choice, anyhow. If you can capture or kill him, go -ahead. I'll gladly resign my share of the brute to you. And you'll earn -it. Do you really think you can crawl out of here and circle him?" - -Torry glanced sourly at the flickering mirages. "I can try," he said -slowly. - - * * * * * - -It was a mirage that saved Torry. - -Going proved even rougher than he had expected. Squirming over unknown -terrain is hard, even in conditions of fair visibility. On Triton, -with its constantly varying light, and the ever-present confusion of -mirages, it was fantastic. The cumbersome space suit was no help. - -Darkness thickened around him, but the mirages grew worse, as he toiled -up the slope. Loose stones rattled about him in tiny avalanches, and he -went more carefully, lest they betray him to Roper. Sweat bathed him -inside his insulated costume, and steam misted the helmet's face plate -before he could get the thermal conditioners functioning properly. A -bad foothold earned him a nasty fall, and the rough suiting and acid -sweat combined to burn painful blisters on hands and knees. - -In grim determination approximating madness, he plunged upward and -onward. He found an eroded ravine and groped blindly along it, -wondering what fearful liquids had gashed such a gully on such a -nightmarish world. - -Alien dusk gathered, and in the hollow of the ravine writhed coils -of living light. At intervals, he avoided the hot glaring flares of -radioactive hotspots. Torry followed the barren fissure, and strange -sounds and fleeting light-phantoms followed him. And a river of dense, -sluggish air funneled upward through the gully, whispering of ugly, -forgotten events upon a forgotten world. In the uneasy sky overhead, -electrical discharges wove networks of colored lightnings, which -crackled and hissed as static in his earphones. - -Nearing the upper end of the gully, Torry halted and took stock of -his surroundings. He estimated progress, and wondered how he would -ever find his quarry. His quest seemed one more mad illusion in the -sequence of mirages. He freed his blaster from its magnetic belt clip -and examined it for charge. Crawling with the weapon in his hand was -awkward, but it would be suicide to be caught reaching for it. Grimly -he worked his way to the notch of the ravine and poked out his head. - -Ironically, it was the mirage that saved him. - -A lateral mirage, distorting both distance and direction, showed him -a sharp image, inverted, of Roper aiming carefully in the opposite -direction. - -Instantly, Torry let go his grasp and dropped. He fell and rolled -savagely, while the lance of light stabbed overhead, and the explosion -started small landslides around him. He screamed in momentary panic. -Preventing a helpless plunge into an abyss which opened before him was -a chore. And the abyss itself proved only illusion. Solid wall blocked -his fall and stunned him for a terrible moment. Miraculously, he -retained a grip on his gun. - -He lay quietly, while rocks continued to rattle upon his helmet and -spacesuit. Someone was descending toward him. It could be only-- - -Roper. - -The visible face behind the plate of transparent plastic could -have been poured in the same mold as Torry's. It was younger, -finer-featured, but it was shrewd, self-indulgent. Roper had enjoyed -his life of crime, and it had agreed with him. He looked healthy, -humorously handsome and extremely well-fed. - -He stared at Torry, and the expression on his face changed as he saw -the blaster. He started a movement toward his own clipped weapon. - -"Don't try it, Bart," ordered Torry sharply. "I think I'd enjoy killing -you." - -Bart Roper sighed deeply. "You took unfair advantage of me," he -complained. "I thought you were hurt or killed. I was coming to see--" - -"To make sure of me, if you'd missed? Maybe not. Maybe you did have a -human impulse for once. I'll try to think so. And you can see how much -it hurts when someone takes advantage of any human weakness. It hurts, -doesn't it?" - -Roper nodded slowly. "It does. So you've got me! Don't be so proud of -yourself. It wasn't that hard. I was cooked from the moment your police -pals got their hands on the transmitter. It was my only way out. You -know that, of course. I just wanted the pleasure of taking some of you -with me. I'm not going back to Mars. The disintegrators, or life in the -prison mines don't appeal to me. So you'd better kill me now." - -"I will if you force me," Torry told him wearily. "But I'm not making -it that easy for you. There's a choice, but you won't like it. I've -made a deal with Grannar. You can die now, or you can go back to Earth -to the clinic." - -"The clinic!" shrieked Roper. "You know what that means. I wouldn't be -the same person. Maybe not even human." - -Torry steadied his eyes on his brother. "I'm not sure you ever were -human. But you need treatment. They'll knock out your thymus, drug -you and shock you and carve you till you'll never know yourself. You -won't be an antisocial monster with the emotional stasis of a child. -You won't be anything you've ever been. But you may be a man. And -you'll stop hurting people, or they'll stop you for good. The choice is -yours--right now. So make up both our minds before I decide to shoot." - -Roper yielded with a grimace of distaste. "You win, Torry. You always -did, sooner or later. I was quicker, but you were smarter. I guess -Rose was the last of your toys I'll ever swipe. And it's back to -kindergarten for Bart Roper." - -Torry relaxed, though he still did not lower his gun. - -"You'll be going back on the survey ship, Bart. That way, you'll have a -long voyage in the brig to meditate on your sins. But on Earth, you'll -have Rose. You're a married man there, with a wife and child. Rose -still loves you, Bart. When you steal something, it stays stolen. I'm -not going back, so you'll get Rose after all." - -Roper laughed coldly. "That's what I meant about your being smarter -than I am. You always come out ahead." - -Torry's eyes followed a moving mirage to a notch high on the walls of -the gully. The glitter of cold metal was not illusion. Tharol Sen held -a gun on him, unwaveringly. - -"You can come out now," Torry said to her. "It's all over." - -Tharol Sen lowered her gun and walked unsteadily toward them. - -"Why didn't you shoot?" Roper stormed at her angrily. "You could have -killed him before he pulled the trigger." - -Inside her face plate. Torry could see her eyes dim with hot tears. - -"Yes, I could have," she said brokenly. "But maybe I've seen enough -mirages to recognize one...." - - * * * * * - -Many Martian hours later, three people watched the survey ship blast -off from Triton. Before the ship left, Grannar had been taken aboard -and removed from his spacesuit long enough for drugs to be administered -and his legs set and splinted. Now, with painkilling narcotics -deadening him, the policeman was scarcely aware of the departing ship -with his prisoner aboard, consigned bodily to Earth and its clinic for -incurable criminals. Grannar had relaxed into a dope-daydream of a -comfortable future on Earth as a plankton farmer, with nothing to do -but read minifilm detective stories. - -Watching the ship vanish beyond a skyful of mirages, Torry tried vainly -to conquer a feeling of depression. Loneliness swept over him, as if -with the sudden termination of his obsession about Roper, his life had -lost most of its meaning. It occurred to him suddenly that Tharol Sen -must be feeling infinitely worse. With a quick glance toward Grannar -to make sure that the policeman was all right, Torry climbed slowly to -the eyrie in the high rocks where the girl had hidden herself. Like a -doll in a space suit, Tharol Sen huddled together, staring upward as if -toward some vanishing illusion. - -Shared loneliness sometimes loses its sting. - -But Tharol Sen ignored Torry's presence, and he felt acutely -embarrassed. - -"You'll be better off without him," Torry said, consoling her. "And -life will be much simpler." - -"I know that," she replied sharply. "What else did you want?" - -Torry laughed. - -"Business, I guess. According to Solar Spacelaw, we three are sole -owners of Triton and its mineral rights, since we were on the spot and -in possession when the survey ship arrived. Your people will have the -transuranics they need. But the stuff won't work in the transmitter, so -it'll have to go in the hard way. High freight charges will cut down -the profits, so I don't think any of us will get rich. I'm sure that -Grannar will sell his rights cheap: And as far as I'm concerned, I'd -rather your people had the stuff at cost, so I'll sign over my rights -to them for the forty-one thousand credits I've invested. Also, you can -claim salvage rights on the transmitter of a third of the value, and -I'm sure the inventor will be happy to have it back at that. I won't -ask any part of the salvage claim. Money just weighs me down anyhow." - -"That's very generous of you," murmured Tharol Sen. "My people will be -very grateful to you." - -"And you," he asked. "Just how grateful will you be?" - -Her eyes blinked, then stared soberly through the face plate of her -helmet. "Ask that again--" - -"It's not part of the deal, of course. But you bragged that you -could make Roper forget a girl back on Earth. I need some full time -forgetting, and I wondered if you'd like to try the same stunt for me." - -Tharol Sen studied him for a long moment before answering. - -"When we're out of these helmets," she said softly, "you can kiss me. -Just once. For gratitude. Afterward, much later, we can think about the -rest, and discuss it with dignity. If you're staying on Mars, why not -look me up ... sometime?" - -"Why not?" asked Torry, grinning. Then without waiting for the kiss, he -made his decision. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/63721-0.zip b/old/63721-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6233db4..0000000 --- a/old/63721-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63721-h.zip b/old/63721-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 0902406..0000000 --- a/old/63721-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63721-h/63721-h.htm b/old/63721-h/63721-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index a92361e..0000000 --- a/old/63721-h/63721-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2601 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Mirage For Planet X, by Stanley Mullen. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - -.blockquot { - margin-left: 5%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<pre style='margin-bottom:6em;'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mirage For Planet X, by Stanley Mullen - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this ebook. - -Title: Mirage For Planet X - -Author: Stanley Mullen - -Release Date: December 05, 2020 [EBook #63721] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MIRAGE FOR PLANET X *** -</pre> -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>MIRAGE FOR PLANET X</h1> - -<h2>By STANLEY MULLEN</h2> - -<p><i>The prize was sealed, its contents unknown.<br /> -Yet scavengers from a dozen barbaric Moons;<br /> -adventurers from nameless, semi-explored<br /> -asteroids, arrived for the deathless<br /> -auction.... To bid on Roper's notorious loot.</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Spring 1955.<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>They were bringing in the prisoners who had escaped from Phobos. Sand -skimmer ambulances had raced to the spaceport outside the terraced -Martian city and waited. Dust devils danced on the wide, wind-whipped -Martian plains. Grannar of the Police and his silent companion examined -each body as it was lowered from the rescue ship.</p> - -<p>Death anywhere is an ugly business. On Mars, you get used to bodies -that never rot. Deep-freeze temperatures hold down decay bacteria, and -the dry, cold air quickly dessicates the tissue. Bodies turn into -mummies that look and weigh like so much shredded wheat. But these -corpses were worse—they were meaningless parodies that might never -have been men. In primal disgust, Torry studied each one in turn, then -shuddered and shook his head.</p> - -<p>Grannar was tough minded, or stronger stomached. Police routines had -taught him not to shudder.</p> - -<p>"You can get used to this," he observed, enjoying Torry's revulsion. -"Since you'd known Roper, we thought you could help us identify him. -Thanks for coming along."</p> - -<p>"Had I a choice?" asked Torry bitterly.</p> - -<p>The policeman's laugh was brutal, explosive. "There is always a choice. -You can do as you're told or be dragged in screaming."</p> - -<p>Torry grimaced. "Much more of this and I'll be dragged out screaming."</p> - -<p>The prisoner-escapees, what was left of them, were an unpleasant -sight. Explosive decompression in airless space does curious things to -men's bodies. Blood boils in the veins and flesh bursts from internal -pressures. Also, there are heat-cold curiosities, with half a body -burnt raw on the sunward side, and the rest frozen iron-hard with a -lacy overlay of snowflake patterns in red.</p> - -<p>Holden was still alive, by a miracle. Forward compartments had held -together when the makeshift spacer blew its flimsy self inside out. He -was alive but not talking. They brought the bulging mass of pulped, -purple flesh back to Mars and dumped it in a basket. There was no face, -no eyes, no recognizable hands or feet. For the time that remained to -him, Holden would be less than a functioning animal, fed by tube, cared -for by people he could not see or hear, living a precarious existence -on the raw, black fringe of life. Holden was through talking. And for -any practical purpose, through living.</p> - -<p>"Too bad," said Grannar, looking into the basket. "He could have told -us about a lot of things ... if he'd wanted to."</p> - -<p>"Holden was a nice guy before he knew Bart Roper," Torry snapped -angrily.</p> - -<p>"You sound pretty bitter about Roper."</p> - -<p>"I should be. I know him better than you do. I am bitter about Roper."</p> - -<p>"Because of Holden?" pressed Grannar.</p> - -<p>"Not ... Holden. But it might as easily have been me in that basket. -Six years ago I was Roper's partner. I got out quickly when I found out -some of his business methods. And I had very little he could steal from -me then. A lot of people have a variety of good reasons to hate Roper. -Just say that I'm one of them."</p> - -<p>Grannar whistled a Martian tune. The sound was shrill and eery in the -thin air.</p> - -<p>"You may as well ride back to the city in the police car with me," he -suggested. "We can talk—"</p> - -<p>"Talk!" blurted Torry. He swore savagely. "All this ugly business -for nothing. You haven't found Roper yet. You don't even know if he -made good his escape from your prison moon. In short, you don't know -anything."</p> - -<p>"True, up to a point," agreed the policeman quietly. "There are always -many things I don't know. So I concentrate on the few things I do -know. For example, you're very much interested in finding Roper. I'm -wondering why. You can tell me about that on our way back to the city. -About Roper himself, I know a few minor facts. Nobody has ever escaped -from Phobos, the prison moon, but Roper may have managed it. With -outside help, he got materials and fittings smuggled in to construct -a scratch spacer. It blew up, as we know, but Roper may have expected -that. In a good spacesuit, he could have survived. Since we still -haven't found him, dead or alive, he's probably circling somewhere in a -private orbit, waiting to be picked up."</p> - -<p>"It could be a long wait. One man is hard to find in all that space."</p> - -<p>"Not necessarily. A code transmitter powered by transuranic alloys -would keep sending indefinitely. And Roper could have agreed upon being -picked up at some point of a fixed orbit by his outside friends. We'll -find him, I think. In the meantime, we have you ... and some questions. -Wait in my car. I'll be with you as soon as I thumbprint some papers."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Torry stumbled across the barren sand wastes of the spaceport, pitted -or glazed here and there by old take-off blasts. Without trouble he -located the half track vehicle bearing police insignia. He got in -and settled himself sourly to await Grannar's probing third degree. -He meditated grimly on Roper, himself, and his reasons for coming to -Mars....</p> - -<p>Had it only been last night he arrived? It seemed eternities ago. -Coming in from Earth by short orbit express, green with deceleration -sickness, he had wondered why he was in such a rush. After four years -a cold trail would not get any colder. It had not, of course. It was -hot when he arrived and had been getting hotter by the minute. Only the -fact of being aboard the express at the time of the prison break had -cleared him in Grannar's eyes of being involved physically. And even -that alibi did not erase suspicion from Grannar's suspicious nature.</p> - -<p>Grannar was shrewd and deadly, a born hunter of men. Since the Martians -never trust each other, most of the policing is done by hirelings from -other planets. Grannar was an Earthman originally. But he was a long -way from home, and twenty years on Mars had made him more Martian than -the natives. He was hard, smart, dangerous, and a tough man to fool.</p> - -<p>Torry had learned that at once last night.</p> - -<p>But Grannar's return to the police car cut short his reverie. Torry -watched the official cross the spaceport toward him, impressed by -the lithe grace and sureness of movement over treacherous sand. Mars -does something to a man who stays there. The body dries up and the -soul withers, but if he survives, a man grows into something lean and -leathery with pantherish strength and easy, poised motions.</p> - -<p>Grannar vaulted to the driver's seat and slammed on power. With a skirl -of steering runners, the half track took off toward the bubble city of -New Chicago, named without tenderness by some long forgotten exile. -Grannar drove with careless violence, but the half track skimmer shot -among the dunes and low, lichen-clad hills without incident.</p> - -<p>There is no truth to the charge that it takes as long to get from the -spaceport to New Chicago as it does to reach Mars from Earth. But the -distance is impressive and the going rough. Grannar talked as he drove, -seeming casual, but his questioning had the same icy skill and unerring -judgment.</p> - -<p>"We'll start at the beginning," he said.</p> - -<p>"There is no beginning," Torry jerked out angrily. "I got in last -night. Fresh from the spaceport and customs, I put a coin in the public -visiphone and asked Central Information about Roper. Central had no -information and returned my coin. It was a police trap. Your men picked -me up, searched me with a Geiger counter and found the coin. You keep -faintly radioactive coins in the visiphone machines for Central to -return when someone is curious about police business. It came out even. -You found out I was curious about Roper, and I found out he is police -business, and his case is current. Do you think I'd be fool enough to -call such attention to myself if I knew about Roper's prison break?"</p> - -<p>"You might be. And it might be smart. That way you'd find out what the -police knew and what they were doing. And it could be an alibi in case -the breakout was delayed. We'll skip those possibilities for now. You -were mulish last night about certain questions. I'm still not clear -about why you are so desperate to find Roper. Why?"</p> - -<p>Torry smiled coldly. "That's easy. I have to find him for a legal -release. Preferably dead, which will make things easier for everybody. -But if he's alive, I want his signature and prints on some papers."</p> - -<p>"Why? What papers?"</p> - -<p>Torry hesitated. "It's a touchy subject. A personal matter. Nothing to -do with the police."</p> - -<p>"I'll be the judge of that. Keep talking."</p> - -<p>"Have you ever spent five years on an asteroid all by yourself?"</p> - -<p>Grannar grunted. "Fortunately not. Twenty years on Mars is bad enough -for me. Have you?"</p> - -<p>Torry's face twisted in bitterness. "I have. I cracked up my one-man -spacecan while prospecting in the asteroids. I was there five years -until a survey ship happened by. There were minerals, low grade -transuranics, but good enough to work when you had nothing else to do. -I worked out the whole asteroid and had a good payload for the survey -ship when it brought me back. Not a big fortune, but a stake that -looked pretty good to me. I'm not rich now, but I can get along without -skipping meals."</p> - -<p>"What's the connection with Roper?"</p> - -<p>"None in that part of it. I went prospecting after I'd dissolved my -partnership with Roper. Times were bad, and I couldn't tie up with a -decent job. There was a girl—"</p> - -<p>"There usually is. Who was she?"</p> - -<p>"Rose Mead, then. She promised to wait for me. She didn't. She's -Roper's wife now. Not that I blame her too much. A year can be a long -time, and five years is longer when you're a castaway on a small -asteroid. Nothing to look at but a skyful of stars. Nothing to breathe -but hydroponic-cycle air. No food but your homemade synthetics and -the green stuff you grow in your chemical vats. You work and eat and -sleep, and any idea can become an obsession. Sometimes it's one woman, -sometimes an imaginary harem. I had a 3-d picture of Rose. It helped to -hold me together, or maybe it just channeled an idea that was bound to -go haywire."</p> - -<p>"You're beginning to make sense," commented Grannar. "So you have an -obsession about Roper's wife?"</p> - -<p>"I call it that. But I figure that all my money is not worth much if -it won't buy just one thing I've dreamed about for five long years. -There's a technicality about divorcing a man who's away from Earth, in -space. Rose is funny about it. But she's agreed that her marriage was -a mistake. She'll marry me if I can prove Roper is dead, or can get a -release from him."</p> - -<p>"Is the girl worth all this trouble?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Torry grinned cynically. "Probably not. But Rose is a good, sound, -practical minded girl. Maybe my money looks good to her. Roper left her -four years ago with hardly any resources. For myself, after five years -of dream stuff, a solid human girl like Rose looks pretty good. Dream -stuff looks fragile, but it's mighty tough eating for a daily diet."</p> - -<p>"So you want to find Roper. Preferably dead, you say. Does that include -pushing him off a cliff if you find him?"</p> - -<p>Torry snorted. "It could. That depends on Roper."</p> - -<p>The policeman echoed the snort. "Roper is dangerous. You may have -forgotten how tricky and ruthless he can be. Sounds to me like hunting -a tiger with a butterfly net."</p> - -<p>Torry smiled viciously. "Even that can be done ... if the net is big -enough and strong enough. I'm counting on a curious twist in Roper's -mind. I'm a challenge to him—the one man so far he failed to swindle -or corrupt. He pulled a fast one about Rose, but he knows I wasn't -there to fight back. It galls him. And if he knows I'm here, alive, and -looking for him, maybe he'll find me and try to wipe out the one flaw -in his record."</p> - -<p>Grannar shot a glance of grudging admiration, but shook his head. "At -the moment, I wouldn't count on it. He'll be busy and we'll see to it -that he is. But if you want to go looking for him, maybe I can help -you."</p> - -<p>"Do you know where he is?"</p> - -<p>"No, but I can give you some hints where to look."</p> - -<p>"Why?" Torry was baffled.</p> - -<p>"Two reasons. Maybe more, but two will do. I'm a cop, so I hate men -like Roper. If he's on Mars I'll get him sooner or later because I'm -a good cop. And it's my job. I hate crooks, so I'll kill him or catch -him and send him to Phobos for keeps. The second reason is that I hate -Mars. It's a tough world—what government there is is corrupt and -vicious. Offend the wrong people or stir things up, and you're out -without your pension. You can even get hurt. I want out while I'm still -ahead, with enough money to go back to Earth and live decently. And so -far I haven't that kind of money."</p> - -<p>"I don't see the connection," protested Torry.</p> - -<p>Grannar's bushy eyebrows crawled up and down like caterpillars.</p> - -<p>"There's big money in this Roper business. There has to be for anyone -to take the risk of arranging a breakout from Phobos that costs plenty."</p> - -<p>"Roper must have something pretty good this time to attract help like -that. What is it?"</p> - -<p>Grannar shrugged. "I don't know. My guess is transuranics—the heavy -metals beyond uranium in the atomic table; the stuff that powers -planets. Without it our whole economy breaks down, and we can't even -afford to make air for places like Mars. But you've mined it yourself. -You know how rare and valuable it is."</p> - -<p>"I know," said Torry. "You think Roper has a new source?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe that, and maybe he's discovered or stolen a cheaper way to -process or transport it."</p> - -<p>"It figures," admitted Torry. "Roper was always interested in -transuranics, and always looking for a squeeze play like that. He'd be -able to make his own terms, wouldn't he? Including squaring the charges -against him?"</p> - -<p>"Just about any terms he dictated," grated the detective.</p> - -<p>"Why tell me this?"</p> - -<p>Grannar's eyes narrowed. "You want Roper for your own good reasons. -I want him for mine. My hands are tied but yours are not. If you want -him, go after him. I'll help, short of risking my job. I'm offering to -make a deal with you. It occurs to me that a couple of smart men could -make a real killing by knowing the right time to buy a few shares of -stock in transuranics. A man like me might even make enough to retire -to Earth, comfortably."</p> - -<p>"You're beginning to make sense," said Torry. "What makes you so sure -I'll cut you in for a slice?"</p> - -<p>Grannar laughed harshly. "My nuisance value, for one thing. My -usefulness for another. I'm an honest cop. But there's nothing in the -rule book that says I can't pick up valuable information on the side -while I'm doing my job. And nothing that says I can't put pressure on -you to help me do it. Besides, why should you balk at doing me a favor -when you're doing yourself one at the same time?"</p> - -<p>"I'm still listening."</p> - -<p>"New to Mars, aren't you?"</p> - -<p>"New enough. I've been here before, but a long time ago and not for -long then. Why?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything about the local set-up, the governments?"</p> - -<p>"Not much. It's a kind of anarchy, I think. The big companies and even -the labor racketeers have private armies like the old goon squads. -Legal government is just a front for feudal gangs, with the police -sitting politely on the lid. Lobbies and pressure groups are the real -bosses. Is that right?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Grannar whistled his aimless Martian tune. "You said it. I didn't. Not -out loud. I never even think it in a room that might have microphones -or scanners. Mars is interesting, beautiful, with shreds and tatters -of an old, picturesque culture clinging to ivy-patterns to the new, -modern, cosmopolitan, industrial set-up. It says that in the books and -travel ads. Out here in the clean and lifeless air of a worn-out planet -I can have the precarious luxury of hating it. I want out, and you're -going to help me get out."</p> - -<p>"Why stay anyhow?"</p> - -<p>"Because I'm a cop and it's the only job I know. And bad as it is, -it's better than nothing. You've heard the yarn of the brash young -rookie in Earth's Sahara City, the guy famous for arresting the police -commissioner's daughter. I'm that cop. I hung a ticket on her for -traffic violation. It turned out she was drunk and speeding away from -an accident that killed somebody. The mess was too ugly to hush up, so -she went to prison and I went to the sticks for keeps. I resigned and -came here. So I learned to keep my mouth shut, do as I was told, and -never to move an inch out of line with the people who count."</p> - -<p>"You're breaking my heart," Torry said bitterly. "Go on."</p> - -<p>"Roper's not alone in this. Somebody with money and political influence -arranged that escape, probably picked him up off the wreck. Before he -went to Phobos he was mixed up with Trans-Uranic Miners Union, and also -with a Martian pressure group headed by old Sen Bas, the importer. -He may still be. I want no trouble with either. With you it doesn't -matter. Maybe you'll dig up a lot of interesting facts before you get -yourself killed."</p> - -<p>"Get to the point."</p> - -<p>"Spacefreight. Two large boxes consigned to Roper and Holden, his -partner. Still unopened, held in the unclaimed spacefreight warehouse. -Charges are high and Roper was broke. He tried to get money from -Trans-U and the Martians, but neither was buying a pig in a poke. Not -then. Maybe they are now. He must have convinced his backers, somehow. -But they can't get the space crates either unless I say so. Roper and -his pal tried robbery to raise money and landed on Phobos. I put the -crates under police seal."</p> - -<p>"Why weren't they condemned and opened?"</p> - -<p>"Too much red tape and money. The transport company can sell the stuff -legally for charges, but only at public auction, unopened, and bids -start at charges plus storage. Are you interested?"</p> - -<p>Torry frowned. "My funds are not unlimited...."</p> - -<p>"That's a chance we'll both have to take. I'm taking a chance on you -anyhow, but don't try any smart tricks. I always cover bets. The boxes -will be officially released for tomorrow's auction. All I ask is a -look inside at Roper's gimmick, whatever it is, so I'll know whether to -buy transuranics or not. If you buy the boxes the contents are yours. -Fair enough?"</p> - -<p>Torry grunted. "If they sell low enough you'll get your look after I've -had mine."</p> - -<p>"See that I do," warned Grannar. "And a word of advice. You can't -import weapons to Mars, but there's no law says you can't buy one here -and sleep with it. Shall I drop you at your hotel?"</p> - -<p>The half track was nearing the domed city. A gigantic half bubble of -polarized plastic rose from the plain to enclose both the old Martian -town and the bustling, strident metropolis of New Chicago. From the -desert the dome was nearly invisible, but the architectural jumbles -looked like a forest of lighted Christmas trees appearing by magic in -the swift dusk of the red planet.</p> - -<p>Torry grinned. "You're forgetting I spent my first night in jail."</p> - -<p>Grannar scoffed, "Routine, one in jail, one in a hotel, the next in the -morgue...."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>An auction of unclaimed, refused or damaged spacefreight held more -surprises and excitements than a Martian wedding. All shipments were -sold "as is, unopened," which offered endless possibilities to a daring -purchaser.</p> - -<p>Anything could pop out of a sealed space crate when the container was -broken into, and sometimes it did, literally. One unlucky bidder got -seven full grown grull cats, shipped from Venus in suspended animation. -His purchase caused seven minor riots until company guards with gas -guns could subdue the savage killers. Loot from a dozen inhabited -worlds and a hundred half explored moons and asteroids littered the -floor or spilled from damaged cases.</p> - -<p>Bids ran high and two dozen small fortunes changed hands as Lots 1 -to 24 went up at auction and were knocked down. Any bid on unclaimed -freight was a gamble, the one form not taxed to death by a greedy -government. And the inhabitants of New Chicago were gamblers, or they -would not have been there. The crowd was mixed and polyglot; human and -half-human species rubbed elbows and tempers to a fine frenzy.</p> - -<p>"Lot 25," sang the auctioneer. "Who'll open?"</p> - -<p>To avoid attracting attention, Torry had bid half-heartedly on several -previous items, breathing a sigh of relief when bids pyramided and the -lots sold to someone else.</p> - -<p>This time, he merely sparked off the bidding, only to have a Martian -importer jump down his throat with an offer of twice the amount. Torry -dropped out as the bidding climbed in dizzy spirals, and the shipment -went to the impatient Martian for the price of a small spaceline. -Laughter rippled over the auction lofts as the boxes were opened and -found to contain forty small air conditioners of a type useless on Mars.</p> - -<p>Lot 26 sold badly after that disappointment. It proved to be a treasure -of rare luminous birds from Venus, and collectors immediately offered -the fortunate purchaser triple his money for the lot.</p> - -<p>"Lot 27," roared the auctioneer before excitement could die down. "Two -large boxes to be sold separately. No information on these ... except -that they were held overtime in storage and have just been released -from police seal. The space crates are undamaged. Who'll open?"</p> - -<p>Torry felt like a small child back on Earth, clutching moist bronze -pennies in his hot, grimy fist as he ran to the corner candy store. -Nerves and muscles contracted in his throat. He opened his mouth but no -sound came out.</p> - -<p>"Fifty credits," shouted the Martian who had bought Lot 25. "I want to -recoup my losses." He stared belligerently at Torry.</p> - -<p>Somebody else doubled the bid.</p> - -<p>Torry found a shadow of his voice and redoubled. Grinning evilly, the -Martian raised again, but not before he shot a wary glance across the -room. Torry met the challenge, then following the direction of the -Martian's glance, he spotted a Martian girl standing near the doorway. -She was so swathed in blue Venusian spidersilk as to be practically -invisible, and there was time for only a general impression. But Torry -did not miss the head-nod signal, instructing the Martian male to bid -for her. After the man's previous performance, Torry braced himself for -spirited competition.</p> - -<p>Up and up went the bids ... astronomically.</p> - -<p>At twenty thousand credits the Martian hesitated for an automatic mute -appeal to the feminine figure. The girl nodded again, but that moment's -doubt cost the Martian.</p> - -<p>"... Third and last time. Sold to the Earthman ... for twenty thousand -credits."</p> - -<p>Torry swallowed hard. He saw the girl glide toward him through the -crowd, moving as smoothly and silently as a ghost.</p> - -<p>Like a maniac the Martian charged to the platform, croaking a loud -protest. Arguments became heated, voices were raised in harsh clamor, -then blows struck. Grinning, Torry watched the scramble. A knot of -uniformed company guards surged around the battling Martian and hustled -him from the auction rooms. A gas gun was used finally to subdue the -raging sportsman. While Torry waited for attendants to bring him the -box and his purchase receipts, he looked again for the girl but she had -melted into the crowd.</p> - -<p>Interest was now roused to a high pitch. The auctioneer went into his -spiel in whatever alien language auctioneers use, and it was only by -knowing in advance what was being said that anyone could make sense of -the garble.</p> - -<p>"... Other half of Lot 27," droned the husky voice. "How about a -thousand credits to open?"</p> - -<p>"One thousand," Torry bid hoarsely.</p> - -<p>He felt sweaty and feverish at the same time. Mentally he calculated -his remaining resources. A little more of this, and the show would be -out of his price class.</p> - -<p>Bidding was rapid. In jumps the price went up from twenty to thirty -thousand. The Martian's hysteria seemed to have infected everyone. At -thirty-five thousand, bidding slowed.</p> - -<p>"Thirty-six thousand," Torry bid.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Moments lengthened and Torry's breath came slowly back. It was the -absolute limit of his available cash, and the auction terms were cash -on the spot. Numbly, he realized that his bid, if it were accepted, -used up more than half of his fortune from five years of lonely work.</p> - -<p>"Thirty-seven thousand," offered a bull-throated voice. And a -barrel-bodied mine owner from Iobololy thrust himself forward as if to -give authority to his bid.</p> - -<p>Torry had shot his wad. He could not raise the bid, and it meant loss -of the second box. Slowly, the starch dissolved out of him and he let -his excitement wilt.</p> - -<p>With bidding so high, the auctioneer was not impatient. He studied -Torry hopefully. The moment extended. The gavel raised, slammed down.</p> - -<p>"Going once."</p> - -<p>A thrusting hand delved into Torry's pocket where he clutched grimly at -his sheaf of paper credits. For an awful moment he thought his pocket -was being picked. Then crisp, rustling paper bulged his pocket, and -realization bulged his eyes. There was no time for thought or argument. -In blind confusion, he drew out a packet of paper money and stared at -it. A cruel fist jabbed into Torry's ribs.</p> - -<p>"Going twice ... at thirty-seven thousand."</p> - -<p>"Forty thousand!" screamed Torry.</p> - -<p>Bids climbed again, to fifty thousand, to fifty-five, then to sixty. At -sixty-two thousand, the fat man from Io gave up.</p> - -<p>"Sold," droned the auctioneer. "I hope the man from Earth has the -money, and his money's worth. Now, Lot 28, five cases, one broken open. -The rest...."</p> - -<p>Torry did not hear any more. He turned and stared blankly at a vision -in blue spidersilk. Gossamer fabric so swathed the girl, covering so -densely in so many folds, that she had no more form than an ear of -corn. A face showed dimly through layers of diaphanous cloth, but no -features were clear enough to have real definition.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" gasped Torry.</p> - -<p>"Your partner." The voice, as smooth and silken as the garments, seemed -bodiless, but it suggested purringly that the girl was not. "Don't be -so obvious about it. We won't open the boxes here. Hire men to move our -loot and I'll have a robotruck waiting outside the freight doors in -five minutes. Be there."</p> - -<p>Torry nodded dumbly. She vanished again, so quickly that he almost -wondered if he had imagined her. But her money was real enough. He -fumbled it, paying grim-faced attendants, then hired men to move the -heavy crates to the freight elevator. At street level, with the boxes -blocking most of the entrance, he waited.</p> - -<p>A wheeled robotruck quickly appeared and the girl descended the ramp. -Like a blue fury, she directed the men and had the space crates loaded -in a brace of minutes. Then a hand snaked out from the fabric folds.</p> - -<p>"Half of eighty-two thousand is forty-one thousand," she said. "We can -settle up now."</p> - -<p>"Half of sixty-two thousand," objected Torry.</p> - -<p>"You don't know me very well," she murmured. "It has to be all or -nothing."</p> - -<p>The gun against his stomach decided Torry. "Don't be like that. You -win." He shrugged. "I guess we're both taking a chance at that. -Forty-one thousand is a heavy investment in curiosity."</p> - -<p>The gun vanished. "You've no idea how much of a chance we're taking," -she mused aloud. "People are curious. Yo Tyal is a fool, and I didn't -dare attract attention by bidding myself. Half of the Trans-U Miners' -goon squad was at that auction just watching me. You should know what -that means."</p> - -<p>"Should I?"</p> - -<p>"You should—if you don't. But we can't stand here talking like -moonstruck lovers. Not unless we're tired of living. Which is it, -partner, me or the goon squad?"</p> - -<p>"You, I guess." Torry laughed grimly. "Though if I'd known about the -goon squad I'd have given you less argument."</p> - -<p>Her head tossed under the myriad veilings of spidersilk. She scrambled -aboard the robotruck and pressed the motor stud. "Come on, then," she -ordered sharply.</p> - -<p>The truck was in motion almost before Torry could leap to the seat -beside her.</p> - -<p>Going at suicidal speed through the twisting alleyways of the old city, -Torry felt hopelessly confused and lost. Worse, the girl kept glancing -over her shoulder, and her driving suffered. It was reckless enough at -best.</p> - -<p>"You drive," Torry urged. "Unless you're psychic you can't watch where -you're going and where we've just been. If anything's following us, -it's probably just an ambulance looking for business."</p> - -<p>"Make sure," she ordered breathlessly.</p> - -<p>At first Torry could distinguish nothing but a blurred rush of shadowy -buildings whirling away behind them as if being drawn toward some -colossal whirlpool. But he sensed pursuit, just as the girl had, -perhaps because she seemed to expect it. Then he saw two huge dark -vehicles race into view just before she swerved the robotruck around a -corner and shut off rear vision.</p> - -<p>"We are being followed," he grudged. "Now where, partner?"</p> - -<p>"Home, I had thought," she said. "But we'll never make it. And I don't -want those wolves going through our place. It's bad enough without -that."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The robotruck hit a straight stretch. Pencil beams of light licked out -from the street-shadows behind. Fire flowers blossomed, but the noise -of heavy explosions was lost in the roar of racing motors. Showers of -dust and flakes of fiery, disintegrating masonry deluged the careening -robotruck.</p> - -<p>Hurtling around a blind corner, the truck aimed itself into a narrow -opening between buildings. Metal ground and screamed in abrasive -contact with stone but the robotruck rebounded and careened down -side alleys, around sharp corners, and over moving walks fortunately -deserted. With the nerveless skill of an old trucker, the girl wrestled -some sanity into the vehicle and chose her route from the most unlikely -possibilities. At last, after a splint through a tangle of dark avenues -and narrow alleys she brought the robotruck to a brake melting halt in -the deep shadow of high, blank-faced buildings.</p> - -<p>"See what I mean?" she said, voice loud and shrill in the silence that -seemed deafening with the motor cut out.</p> - -<p>Shuddering, the girl crouched behind the seat shield and fumbled inside -her garment for the gun, alert for signs of pursuit.</p> - -<p>"Relax," advised Torry. "We're alone for the moment. Wherever we are."</p> - -<p>"It's an abandoned warehouse. Belongs to my grandfather," she gasped. -"Can you get those boxes inside with only me to help."</p> - -<p>"Of course, if there's tackle, some wheels and a ramp."</p> - -<p>With a coded light-key the girl opened heavy doors and got necessary -equipment. Fortunately, she was stronger than she looked, and about -as fragile as steel wire. She gave Torry no more mercy than she gave -herself. It was still a mean job.</p> - -<p>Inside the vast, echoing interior, Torry and his companion seemed as -unimpressive as ants in an auditorium. Huge, vaulted lofts were dusty -with disuse. The huge cubes of the space crates looked like unmarked -dice, rolled by giants, and forgotten.</p> - -<p>Torry was tired and irritable. "I've played along with you," he said. -"Now that we're here I'd like some facts. Because of the boxes, I'll -assume your connection with Roper. Who are you, and what is all this -about?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know?" demanded the girl. Laughing an icy trill, she threw -back the veiling spidersilk from head and face, bunching the material -neatly behind her neck. Her face was oddly elfin, and distorted to -curious proportions by the Martian half-mask of delicately etched -glass. Wide set eyes of periwinkle blue tilted at the corners, and the -smile of her sword-slash mouth was both teasing and disarming. Torry -was suddenly glad that there had been no such face as hers to remember -during his five-year exile.</p> - -<p>"I'm Tharol Sen," she murmured. "My grandfather is Sen Bas, the Martian -importer. Does that explain anything?"</p> - -<p>"It may," said Torry, "but not to me. I'm a stranger here, myself. Long -ago I was Roper's partner. We heard he was dead. You might say I'm -acting for his estate."</p> - -<p>"Roper is still alive, very much alive. And don't worry, he can look -after his own affairs."</p> - -<p>An ugly thought struck Torry, then, though he had gnawed at the idea -before. "You don't happen to be one of his affairs?"</p> - -<p>Her smile vanished. The dark hair swirled like black smoke as she -tossed her head. Her eyes turned dark and cold with the arrogant pride -of her ancient race.</p> - -<p>"That was a bad choice of words, partner," she said with a haughty -stare. "I have promised to marry Bart Roper."</p> - -<p>Anger surged hotly in Torry.</p> - -<p>"Bad choice of words for you, not me. Roper can't marry you or anyone -else. Whatever arrangement you have—" He stopped. "Did he happen to -mention a wife back on Earth?" He hoped the flash of resentment in him -was for Rose, not for himself.</p> - -<p>"Roper said she was dead," the girl answered. "Perhaps he believes she -is dead. In any case, it doesn't matter. Martian law does not recognize -marriages on other planets. He can pay her off and I'll see that he -forgets her."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps." Torry mastered himself. "I'd still like to know what I paid -all those credits for."</p> - -<p>"Why not open the boxes and find out?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>From a trapdoor locker she brought tools, an atomic torch and a huge -wrecking bar. The boxes yielded easily to persuasion.</p> - -<p>The first box, which was smaller, contained an assortment of lenses. -Banks of atomic-electric batteries hooked up into an intricate -arrangement of copper wire coils did not explain any puzzles. Nor did -the contents of the larger case, which were mainly a folding framework -of metal suspending endless layers of foil or metalcloth too finely -woven for the eye to follow. The foil or fabric was eery stuff, as -unsubstantial as curdled moonlight. Like liquid mercury, it seemed -almost alive as it crawled away from the touch.</p> - -<p>"I thought the only mirages you could buy came in bottles," commented -Torry unhappily.</p> - -<p>"Don't be a fool," rasped the girl in a strange tone. "It is a -mirage ... for Planet X. I thought you knew more since you knew Roper. -But I'll stand by my agreement. All or nothing, both ways. I'd better -explain. And now that you're in, try to act intelligent. I'll tell you -all I can, then we'd better get this equipment to ... to my grandfather -before anything else happens."</p> - -<p>A buzzer near the metal sliding doors droned a warning. The girl's face -turned upward toward a blinking red alarm light.</p> - -<p>"I'd say something was already happening," said Torry.</p> - -<p>"Someone's in the alley outside," gasped Tharol Sen. "It can't be the -police. They wouldn't dare interfere."</p> - -<p>"Then who?—"</p> - -<p>"Probably Ferax of Trans-U Miners Union. Or his strong-arm squad. If -they find us here with ... with that they'll kill both of us. I don't -know what to do."</p> - -<p>"Why don't you stop fooling with that silly blaster gun? Give it to me -and find yourself a hole to crawl in. This is my department. Let me do -the worrying."</p> - -<p>She laughed. "I might do just that." She handed over her pop-gun. It -was a typical woman's weapon, squat, flat and short-barreled. Up close -it could vaporize a man, but it would have no range worth mentioning. -Torry grinned at it in contempt. Motioning her out of the line of fire, -he crouched behind the wrecked crates.</p> - -<p>A heavy crash echoed through the cavern-like vaults as force was -applied to the metal doors. But the doors were dur-steel, two inches -thick. They held, but the interior reverberated with harsh metallic -clangor. Two more blows sounded, then a lengthening silence. A circle -of redness glowed incandescent on the metal, spreading over the panels -like spilled paint. Waves of heat sprang outward. Heat haze danced -in the cool air as visible vibrations of blinding crimson radiated -from the softening door. Runnels of melting steel channeled the metal -surface, dripping to spatter on floor.</p> - -<p>The girl was busy with something, but with his eyes riveted on the -door, Torry could not spare her any attention. He imagined she might be -trying to hide the contents of the boxes.</p> - -<p>"They'll be through in a minute," she whispered.</p> - -<p>Torry nodded. Drops of water splashed down suddenly. Torry felt it on -hands and face, glanced upward. Rain, inside a building in a domed -city! He must be crazy. But it was real. Drops became a deluge, -slashing down in increasing torrents. Water sizzled on the incandescent -door, and clouds of steam burst upward, obscuring everything. Pools -formed, joined. In moments the floor was inches deep in water.</p> - -<p>"Automatic sprinklers," said the girl. "Set for any upward shift of -temperature."</p> - -<p>Steam clouds cleared. A needle of light burned through. In rifts, Torry -saw the door dissolve, slide suddenly into a bubbling, spitting mass -that spread in fiery rush across the floor. In wild rush came dark -figures, dancing gingerly to avoid tongues of hot metal. Torry fired -carefully. He kept finger on stud until the blaster charge was used -up. He flung the useless weapon. But the dark figures were gone. The -doorway, with sagging leaves of soft metal, was empty.</p> - -<p>"That's all, sister," he said, turning.</p> - -<p>She was gone. Something like a blue flash whisked out of vision. -There was only the metal framework supporting a cylinder of the woven -quicksilver. And, as he watched, it vanished.</p> - -<p>More dark figures blocked the doorway. They came at him in a surge of -reckless violence. He stood up and met them with empty hands. Then -darkness struck through his brain.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>Torry opened one eye cautiously. He was in bed, a soft bed with clean -linens. Beside the bed loomed a monstrous figure. Something that might -have been, and was, a Venusian type-R mutant. It seemed not quite -human, and big even for a Venusian. But it was not a stranger.</p> - -<p>"Ferax!" whispered Torry, opening both eyes.</p> - -<p>"It's been a long time," said the Venusian in thick accents.</p> - -<p>"Not long enough."</p> - -<p>Ferax laughed brutally. His head was a hairless globe of coarse -leather, into which some humorist had punched a parody of human -features while the material was still pliable. Nothing about Ferax -looked pliable now.</p> - -<p>"You're still tough, Torry. And you're keeping fast company these days. -But you'll never learn to work with your brain instead of your fists or -a gun."</p> - -<p>Torry smiled with bruised, pulpy lips. "Look who's talking. You're -getting soft, Ferax. Last time your boys worked over Roper and me we -couldn't walk or talk for a week. And I hear you're in fast company -yourself since you gave up strike-breaking and took over union -racketeering. You may be a big name now, but you're as ugly as ever. -And to me, you'll always smell like the skunk in the perfume works."</p> - -<p>Ferax bellowed happily. "Smells are more subtle in higher brackets, -that's all. In a stinking world, nobody smells too pretty. Not even -you, and certainly not your girl friend—or is she Roper's?"</p> - -<p>"Tharol Sen? Roper's, I guess. You'll have to ask them. I barely saw -the girl myself. I just got in night before last, spent a day answering -questions for the police, then rested up one night before buying myself -a package of trouble. Nobody tells me anything, so I'll have to guess. -Is Roper behind this rat race?"</p> - -<p>Ferax grunted. "I could almost believe you don't know. So I'll tell -you. He's in with a Martian power grab. They need transuranic metals -to power their underground cities. The stuff is scarce and expensive. -Everyone's looking for new sources and we'll have to find some soon or -our whole economy will break down. The Martians are in the same jam, -desperate."</p> - -<p>"Roper has a new source?"</p> - -<p>"Not new. We all know where the metals are. Neptune's big moon, Triton. -And Pluto. The trouble is getting them out."</p> - -<p>Torry shook his head. "But you've mined under bad conditions before. -Triton and Pluto should be no worse than some."</p> - -<p>"Not the mining. Transportation. Freight rates from Pluto or Triton -would eat up all the profits. And take too much time. Who wants to -spend twelve years hauling in one shipload of ore? The answer is, -nobody. The Martians can afford the money since they're already paying -top rates for whatever we can supply. But we think Roper has a short -cut for transportation—"</p> - -<p>"If he has I'd better get in with him. Sounds like a very good profit."</p> - -<p>Ferax chuckled. "I know better than that. You and Roper hate each other -worse than you hate me. Besides, I can offer a better deal. He'll only -swindle you out of your cut, and you know it. Throw in with me and -you'll stay alive, plus a slice of whatever I take."</p> - -<p>"Are you serious about that? If so, I'll have to think it over. Is -there any use asking you where I can find Roper?"</p> - -<p>"No use at all," said Ferax, grinning. "I don't know. If I did, I'd -go there after him. If you do I'll have you followed. You always did -have a genius for picking the losing side, which makes it a pleasure to -fight you. You're free to go as soon as you're strong enough. If you -decide to play things my way, let me know. I'll give you a pass, day -or night. Getting into union headquarters is like breaking into the -mint. I live like a minor king, and the place is a fort."</p> - -<p>Torry snorted. "It's probably safer that way, when so many people hate -your guts."</p> - -<p>Ferax shrugged. "For that compliment I'll give you some free advice. -Don't tell the police about that shooting fray in the warehouse. You're -nobody, and the police would love to clear the union and your Martian -twirp by using you for scapegoat. You or the girl killed six of my best -hardheads. Also, if you see her or old Sen Bas, watch yourself. They're -both trickier than snakes and a lot more poisonous."</p> - -<p>"One thing more," said Torry. "What happened to the girl?"</p> - -<p>Ferax opened eyes wide. "You tell me. She was gone, along with the -stuff from the boxes. My men found you sprawled out unconscious from a -blow on the head. You were suckered, friend. Suckered."</p> - -<p>Ferax produced a metal ident card impregnated with coded electronic -inks. "This will keep you out of jail if your cop friend has any such -ideas. Also, it will get you in here to see me anytime, day or night, -if you change your mind."</p> - -<p>Torry laughed, but accepted the card uneasily. "That will be the day or -night...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Like all police stations, the building reeked of unwashed bodies and -harsh disinfectants. In Grannar's office, Torry faced out the storm.</p> - -<p>"Amateur!" said Grannar in disgust. "Why did I ever get mixed up with -you?"</p> - -<p>Torry glared back at him. "Our lovey-dovey arrangement is brittle -enough to break off any time you want it that way."</p> - -<p>Grannar shook himself like a wet dog. "Not yet. Whether you know it or -not, you did pick up some interesting facts. I guess Tharol Sen has -tricked smarter men than you. And she'll probably keep that partnership -bargain, since Martians are funny about honor in a business deal. Since -she was the one at the auction we can assume that the Martians picked -up Roper from the wrecked escape ship and that he's alive."</p> - -<p>"I'm sure she knows where Roper is," said Torry. "Now if I knew where -to find her—"</p> - -<p>"That's easy enough," Grannar told him acidly. "Her grandfather has a -big place in the old Martian sector, about twenty acres on the surface -and Thol knows how many cubic miles of tunnels and cellars underground. -He calls himself an importer, and after his own quaint way, he is. Any -vice for a price. Sen Bas' Garden of Delights is a combination gambling -den, freak show, amusement park, carnival and emporium of forbidden -drugs and narcotic liquors. We've tried raiding the joint but gave that -up. Too risky, with their mines and booby traps, and the Martians just -scamper into the holes and get lost. Below ground is a rabbit warren of -caverns and tunnels and vaults that used to be for growing and curing -mushrooms and commercial molds. We know the girl is there, somewhere, -but—"</p> - -<p>"But you're afraid to go in after her?"</p> - -<p>"Not quite that. If ordered on regular police business I'd go poking -into even that Martian hornet's nest. But we have nothing on her or Sen -Bas, and only a suspicion that Roper's hiding there. Since you muffed -something easy, like the auction, I doubt if you could manage to get -in, let alone locate her or Roper."</p> - -<p>"Who says I muffed anything?" demanded Torry irritably. "I know what -was in the boxes, though I didn't tell the girl I knew. It's a matter -transmitter, the only one in the Solar System. An inventor back on -Earth was knocked on the head and his working model stolen. He's alive, -but has lost his memory, and the plans were taken along with the model. -Roper's big secret is stolen property, but getting it back may be a -problem. I didn't guess what it was till the girl used it to escape -from the warehouse. Probably they want the thing to bring back heavy -metal ores from Triton or Pluto. I've learned more in three days than -you did in four years."</p> - -<p>Grannar bowed sardonically. "Oh, sure. I apologize. And now I'm sure -you can lay hands on a man with a perfect escape method—from anywhere -to anywhere. The ratholes were bad enough, but this really does it."</p> - -<p>"The girl is still a good lead," said Torry quietly. "I'm going after -her. Are you, or do I have to ask help from Ferax?"</p> - -<p>"Suit yourself about Ferax. I won't risk my job on a chance Roper -might be there—"</p> - -<p>"How much is your job worth?" asked Torry, with a sneer.</p> - -<p>Grannar's face twitched. "For half that dough you threw away at the -auction, I could buy a plankton farm on Earth...."</p> - -<p>Torry licked his lips and left. Back at the hotel he cashed a bank -draft and put twenty thousand credits in currency into an envelope with -a note and sent it to Grannar. The note began:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> -<p><i>I've always wanted to buy a policeman. Now you can afford to do your -job. I'm seeing Ferax first, but with or without his help, I'm going -after Roper.</i></p></div> - -<p>Terse instructions followed. Torry did not expect too much of Grannar, -but the man represented law and authority as far as either existed on -Mars, and dealing with Roper, Ferax, and the Martians all at once was -scarcely a one-man job.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Trans-U Miners Union housed itself in a citadel remarkable even on -Mars. It occupied the center of a large area, cleared, floodlighted -and surrounded by a charged wire fence. Inside the defense circle were -booby traps triggered for the first careless step off marked pathways -patrolled by robot guards. Torry's metal ident card got him through the -gateway by tripping electronic relays, and each incorruptible robot -guard passed him after being shown the card.</p> - -<p>At the building doorway he had to satisfy a series of dubious and hard -bitten human questioners, but his pass and the magic name of Ferax got -him inside.</p> - -<p>Doors opened. Robot voices directed him across echoing lobbies to a -bank of elevators. In a locked cage he descended five floors below -surface level. In the corridor another bodiless voice spoke:</p> - -<p>"End of the hall. Door on the right."</p> - -<p>Torry followed directions. The ritual was getting on his nerves. His -footsteps echoed hollowly. The place smelled damp and moldy as a -tomb. Opening the door on the right with a wave of his keyed pass, he -realized that it was, in a sense, a tomb. There was a body in it. A -dead body.</p> - -<p>Ferax sprawled across an ornate desk of Venusian chibar wood and -kru-leather.</p> - -<p>Luminous particles from a blaster discharge still danced in the air. -A lingering bite of charred, exploding flesh stung the nostrils. -There was little left of the torso, but a lolling globular head -identified the corpse. A discarded gun clanked as Torry's foot kicked -it. He hesitated, then picked it up and renewed the charge. It was an -automatic reflex of defense, and fingerprint evidence was not likely -to matter now. If found on the spot he would have little chance for -explanations.</p> - -<p>The thing had happened only minutes ago. Whoever did it, the killer -must still be close at hand. A roving flicker of pale radiance warned -Torry that a scanner was in use. By whom? From where? No complex mental -processes were needed to convince Torry that he was in a bad spot. -The goon squads were notorious for acting first and asking questions -afterwards.</p> - -<p>Getting into the citadel to see Ferax had been interesting enough. -Getting out again promised to be more so. If he ever got out.</p> - -<p>The office door was opening slowly. Silently Torry glided behind -it. Reaching around it, he snatched cloth and flesh and dragged a -struggling form into the room.</p> - -<p>"Tharol Sen!" The girl was panting, her periwinkle eyes wide and glazed -with horror.</p> - -<p>Torry subdued her writhings by jamming the blaster muzzle hard into her -flesh.</p> - -<p>"Talk low," he ordered. "But talk fast. Why did you kill Ferax?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't. I found him like that, just a moment ago. I heard the -blaster and looked in quickly. Then I hid in the office across. I heard -something and came back here. That's all I know." Her voice ended on a -wail.</p> - -<p>Torry jerked up the elfin face and studied it savagely. For some reason -he believed her. But there was more to explain, even if someone else -had killed the labor racketeer, and little time for explanations.</p> - -<p>"How did you get in here?" he snapped. "And why?"</p> - -<p>She threw back her head in a characteristic gesture. Her eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p>"Roper had come here. He was so long that I got worried. I came -through...." She stopped talking suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Through the transmitter? I know about it, so you can call it by the -right name."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen nodded numbly.</p> - -<p>"That means Roper killed him."</p> - -<p>The girl jerked angrily. "Bart Roper wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill -an unarmed man. Probably you killed him, and just want to throw the -blame on ... on us."</p> - -<p>Torry ignored her. "Roper would be too smart to leave any evidence. So -I'll leave it for him." From his pocket he took a small lighter with a -name engraved on it, quickly scrubbed it free of prints and dropped it -on the floor as if it had fallen in the excitement of murder. It would -not carry conviction, but it would be proof of Roper's presence and his -reputation would do the rest.</p> - -<p>"You fool," said Tharol Sen. "I'm a witness, and I saw you do that. -I'll testify."</p> - -<p>"Do that," taunted Torry viciously, "if it ever comes to a trial. -Who'll believe you? And I don't think the strong arm boys will wait -for a trial. If you can get back through that transmitter screen, we'd -better do it before someone finds us here."</p> - -<p>"Take you?" she snarled. "I'd rather die here."</p> - -<p>"You have that choice."</p> - -<p>She changed her mind. Torry did not misread the flash of wicked triumph -on her face. He did not have to.</p> - -<p>"All right," she yielded. "Bart Roper will know how to take care of -you. Come ahead, if you dare. The transmitter screen is in the opposite -office."</p> - -<p>Torry sighed bitterly. "I'll chance Roper. I've already had one session -with the goons."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The quicksilver screen was three-dimensional, and possibly four, since -it seemed to exist in two places at once and linked them without -regard to intervening distance. It was a hollow cylinder supported by -metal framework, and the insubstantial fabric glowed and pulsed with -electrical current. Inside was darkness and a sense of infinite space. -Walking through the odd fabric one encountered nothing material, but -a prickling touched every skin surface, then soaked through the bone -centers.</p> - -<p>Leaving the force field of the screen was more exhilarating, and -almost painful. It was like breaking an electrical contact; muscles -jerked spasmodically, hair stood on end, and hot sparks discharged from -any moist portions of the skin. Torry had not realized how drenched his -body was in cold sweat. He stepped out, gasping.</p> - -<p>He stepped into paradise, or hell. Unreality.</p> - -<p>Martian subcellar gardens are startling to outsiders. In the air -was the bitter tang of narcotic incense. Smoke distorted vision. -Nightmarish fantasies of mobile murals in rich colors writhed on the -walls. The ceiling was an illusion of sky and stars, complete with -intricacies of celestial mechanics, and the flooring resembled grassy -sward, set with miniature pools and cool, gurgling streams, crossed by -arching bridges of carved and tined ivory. Singing birds and trilling -winged serpents filled the air with sound and motion. Luminous bubbles -rose and burst above lighted, musical fountains. Musicians toyed with -the acrid melodies of ancient Mars, and only close inspection proved -the dancing girls 3-d projections.</p> - -<p>It was a painstaking reproduction, pitiful and exquisite, of the richly -barbaric and luxuriant youth of a now-dying planet. To a Martian, it -would have been nostalgic and lovely. To Torry, fresh from the scent of -blood and death, it was a garish mockery, like a painted corpse.</p> - -<p>Torry recoiled painfully, both from the setting and from the living man -who seemed part of it.</p> - -<p>Sen Bas was as dried and shriveled as a Martian mummy. Only his eyes -seemed alive.</p> - -<p>"You can put away your gun," said Sen Bas, his wrinkled face a mask of -malicious humor. "You are in no danger here."</p> - -<p>Oddly, there was no feeling of menace, and Torry found himself putting -away his weapon. Will power beat from Sen Bas as it does from hypno -machines, and his personality held fearful compulsion.</p> - -<p>"But he's—" began Tharol Sen hysterically.</p> - -<p>Still smiling, Sen Bas nodded like a bizarre doll with a swinging -pendulum attached to its head. "No matter. Since we made a deal with -Roper when we picked him up off Phobos, we must do as he says ... in -some matters. Roper has gone ahead. He wants this man, Torry, sent to -him ... there. There is use for him ... where Roper has gone. Until -then, he is our guest, and we must show him every courtesy."</p> - -<p>Torry studied the old man calmly. "You can use place names, Sen Bas. I -know about the transuranics on Triton and Pluto. But how could Roper -have gone ahead when we were using the transmitter? It can't be three -places at once."</p> - -<p>Sen Bas frowned. "No, it cannot. Unfortunately, it has many -limitations. This is a second model copied by my engineers for study -and experiment. To our distress we have learned that ores of the heavy -metals cannot be transmitted since their radioactivity has an effect -on the force field. But now, with trouble coming, this model must be -destroyed."</p> - -<p>From a pouch Sen Bas drew a tiny sub-sonic whistle upon which he blew -a soundless note. Martian technicians quickly appeared. Sen Bas issued -commands, and the transmitter was rapidly dismantled and removed to -incinerators.</p> - -<p>"Good idea," approved Torry. "Ferax is dead. The police—"</p> - -<p>"I know. The transmitter is not as instantaneous as it seems to the -user. Time also is distorted, as well as space. Hours have passed. You -are the last person known to have seen Ferax, so you are wanted by the -police and others for questioning. I was not certain you would come -through the screens, so my agents are scouring the city for you. Roper -has gone ahead to Triton, and wants you to join him there where we can -make contact."</p> - -<p>"How long will that take?"</p> - -<p>Sen Bas blinked. "Who knows? My scientists say it depends on the -relative positions of Triton and Mars. The best time will be in five -or six days, but you may have to go sooner. Tharol Sen can show -you around, and when the time is right, she will take you to the -transmitter. It is securely hidden where the police will not find it. -In the meantime—"</p> - -<p>"I'm a prisoner?"</p> - -<p>Sen Bas giggled. "Not exactly. Say, my guest. Your only jailers are -outside. Let us hope they will stay there until you can go to Roper ... -as he requested."</p> - -<p>"Roper must have been in a hurry to get away," grated Torry.</p> - -<p>"He was. For excellent reasons. A Solar Survey ship is due off Triton -at any time. Roper wanted to be in sole possession of the satellite, -with samples to make good his claims to minerals."</p> - -<p>Suddenly, everything happened at once. Shrill alarms blared from a -dozen quarters. Red lights flared ominously. A fusillade of shots broke -out.</p> - -<p>Sen Bas swore luridly in Martian. "The police!"</p> - -<p>Heavy explosions thundered overhead. The ceiling cracked, opened wide. -An avalanche of steel and stone and breaking glass roared into the -subcellar gardens. Dust clouds blinded Torry.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>From the collapsing roof tons of debris poured into the underground -gardens and spread over the floor like advancing mountains. Dust -choked, Torry staggered blindly before it in panic to avoid being -caught and buried. It was like a swift, deadly race with an engulfing -landslide.</p> - -<p>Free of the confusion and deafening tumult, he turned to look about -for Sen Bas and the girl. In the dust cloud it was impossible to see -anything. Masses of masonry and fused glass from the collapsing cavern -roof continued to detach themselves and crash down in random uproar. -Cautiously, Torry picked his way over the mounds of rubble, searching.</p> - -<p>A feeble cry led him to Sen Bas. The aged Martian looked like a -tattered bundle of red rags. Half buried under a hillock of shattered -stone and twisted steel, the old man showed little sign of life, save -for still-glittering eyes and husks of sound emerging from bloodless -lips. Spreading stains of red seeped from beneath the prisoning blocks.</p> - -<p>"If I can lift the stones, can you drag yourself out?" asked Torry.</p> - -<p>"Don't—think—so!" gasped Sen Bas.</p> - -<p>"Where can I find help?"</p> - -<p>"Don't try. Go—quickly. Save yourself. The alarms—police—maybe union -killers. Go—"</p> - -<p>"Not yet," snapped Torry. "We'll worry about the rest after I get you -out."</p> - -<p>The old man protested. "I'm—old. Does not matter. Get to—transmitter. -My people must have—"</p> - -<p>Ignoring him, Torry worked. Feverishly he searched for and found a -length of reinforcing steel. With it, he dug into debris of glass and -stone and tortured steel. Mass by mass, he levered it up and rolled it -aside. Fingers raw, steel bending in his hands, he strained to uncover -the writhing, bleeding form of Sen Bas. At last he wedged up the -last mass and reached under to drag out the ancient Martian. Sen Bas -screamed as he came free, but the agony left his face.</p> - -<p>"You're hurting him," raged Tharol Sen. She stumbled toward them, her -face a mask of hate.</p> - -<p>"No!" cried Sen Bas. Gathering breath, he whispered, "He saved me." -Then pallor flooded his pinched features.</p> - -<p>Torry knelt beside him, not even looking at the girl. "Shut up!" he -ordered. "Get bandages—painkilling drugs. He's badly crushed, bleeding -to death. Don't argue. Hurry!"</p> - -<p>Sen Bas blinked. "Do as he says...." Tharol Sen disappeared.</p> - -<p>Alone, Sen Bas stared curiously at his rescuer. "I should have ordered -you both to the transmitter. My men could care for me ... if it -matters."</p> - -<p>"Not soon enough. Roper can wait."</p> - -<p>Sen Bas shook his head. "Roper might. My people cannot. We need heavier -metals to power our underground cities. We are a dying race."</p> - -<p>"You're a dying man. Don't talk."</p> - -<p>The old Martian composed his features with great dignity. "What better -time? Our need is desperate. We must claim the transuranics on Triton. -Even though they must be freighted here, since they cannot be brought -through the transmitter. We tried it, and failed. You know Roper. Will -he deal fairly with us?"</p> - -<p>Torry shook his head sadly. "No."</p> - -<p>Sen Bas did not seem surprised. "I feared that. Will you?"</p> - -<p>"I'll try, though I'll have to do what seems best when I get to it."</p> - -<p>Sen Bas relaxed. "That is good enough. Did you come to Mars to kill -him?"</p> - -<p>A shiver wrenched Torry, his eyes glazed. "I haven't decided yet."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it would be best. But he will not be easy to kill. Tharol Sen -will take you to him. Perhaps by the time fate has to choose between -you and Roper, her blindness will be gone, and she can make a clear -choice of her own...."</p> - -<p>"How did you—"</p> - -<p>With a convulsive grimace, Sen Bas was dead. Moments later, when Tharol -Sen appeared loaded with medical supplies, Torry glared at her. Her -face a chalk mask, she whimpered.</p> - -<p>"Forget it," Torry said angrily. "It's too late for tears."</p> - -<p>"Why did you try to save him?"</p> - -<p>"If you have to ask, you'd never understand."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen shuddered. "I don't understand anything about you. Who you -are. Why you hate us so—"</p> - -<p>"Who says I do?"</p> - -<p>"Roper. He says—"</p> - -<p>"Never mind what he says. I suppose there's no use trying to convince -you that he never tells the truth if a lie will serve as well. He's -a known criminal, a thief and swindler, and even a murderer. A man -who abandoned his wife on Earth, and a small child he's never seen. -Frankly, I don't understand you, and I'm not sure I'd want to. You're -quite determined to marry him?"</p> - -<p>"Quite." Tharol Sen stiffened.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's your hard luck. He's no good. No good for you, or anyone. -Not even for himself."</p> - -<p>"Nothing you can say matters. He told me about that wife. She's too -sane, too normal and practical for him. He thinks that I—"</p> - -<p>Torry was not listening. Contrasting Tharol Sen with Rose, he was -almost inclined to agree with Roper, and envy him such a loyal and -spirited defender. The girl was pure-blood Martian, with all the eery -beauty of the strange race. She was young but vibrantly alive and -human. There was emotional depth in her, and a passionate savagery that -might inspire a man to passion, or to devotion, depending upon the man.</p> - -<p>"Besides," finished Tharol Sen, "there is no other man like him."</p> - -<p>"Not quite like him, fortunately." Torry laughed bitterly. "I'm a lot -like him, if you haven't noticed. But nicer ... and sometimes smarter."</p> - -<p>"That's a matter of opinion," she said acidly. "Yours and mine. But you -do resemble him. You're ... you're not—"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I am. I'm ashamed to admit it, but Bart Roper and I had the -same mother. He's my half-brother."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Her face was puzzled. "Then why—"</p> - -<p>Torry tightened visibly. "I don't know. Or maybe I just don't want to -face it yet. We hate each other as only brothers can. You'd better know -that before you take me to him. I may have to kill him."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen sneered. "I don't think you can kill him. I'll take you to -him because both Roper and my grandfather wanted me to. Roper can deal -with you as he sees fit. But if I think you're a danger to him, I'll -kill you. Understand that."</p> - -<p>Torry shrugged. "On that basis I'll accept your help. Now you'd better -find that transmitter. I suspect that the explosions were the police or -the goon squads breaking in."</p> - -<p>"They were," she said nastily. "They ran into booby traps in the upper -levels. It will take them a while."</p> - -<p>"I wouldn't count on too much time," warned Roper. "Grannar is a smart -policeman, and the goon squads seemed to know their work."</p> - -<p>"This way."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen was coldly aloof, and seemed both preoccupied and depressed, -which was natural. She went ahead, wordlessly, and Torry followed, -lost in his own reflections. At the far end of Sen Bas' wrecked garden -was a steel-arched doorway, high, sombre and gothic. Beyond, and -below, lay the sprawling vastness of vaults and caverns which was the -Martian underworld. Long, curvings ramps led downward into a complex of -subsurface workings far below New Chicago.</p> - -<p>They descended and slipped quietly across large, echoing platforms -whose dimensions were lost in gloom. Metal-shod stairways spiraled -upward and downward into invisible infinities. Deep shafts vibrated -with strange sounds the ear could not catch or identify. Freight -tunnels were yawning maws of darkness, like the staring, sightless -eyes of some mythical monster created on too large a scale for man to -understand.</p> - -<p>Torry grew tense and nervous. He began to sense patterns of shivering, -eery movement about him. Walls and ceilings closed in suddenly, and -he could make out vague, monstrous forms set into niches within walls -carved of bedrock. Old-Martian gods in sculpture—leering stone -spectres, goblin-like, and subtly obscene.</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen paused. Her hand sought Torry's and drew him close, but not -in friendliness. She whispered harshly, warning him to silence and -extreme caution.</p> - -<p>"I was wrong. The police have broken through. Some are already in the -vaults."</p> - -<p>She followed a maze of barely visible threadlike guidelines of -luminosity set into the metallic tiling. A few steps more brought them -to a wide platform, from which many tunnel mouths opened. Along one -wall ranged banks of elevators. Beyond were ranks of empty pneumatic -tube cars on tracks which angled in sharp descent into wells a level -below the platform. Spidery Martian hieroglyphs labeled various shafts -and the tube terminals. Tharol Sen studied the markings closely before -making her choice.</p> - -<p>"I have been here only once before," she complained. "It is not easy to -find the way. But I think the police will have more trouble."</p> - -<p>She selected a pneumatic tube car. Torry boosted her to the door flap. -She settled herself in the tiny seat cradle, then from inside, extended -him a helping hand. For the first time she noticed his blistered palms -and raw fingers. He grunted painfully as she drew him up beside her.</p> - -<p>"I should have bandaged your hands," she mused.</p> - -<p>Torry snorted. "Can you drive this shuttle? It has more gadgets than a -space ship."</p> - -<p>"One way to find out," murmured Tharol Sen icily, poking a slim -finger at a keyboard of colored studs. Distant machinery whirred and -whined. Flaps banged shut and the shuttle car shot forward and down at -sickening speed. Tharol Sen laughed, and the sound was of ice chips -trickling on metal foil.</p> - -<p>Air whipped angrily about the shell of thin metal. There was no gut -wrenching nausea of acceleration, only sharp awareness of speed. -Movement became a blur streaming past the transparent plastic cartop. -It was like being part of a hollow missile fired from an air gun. As -the car's original impetus diminished, speed dwindled. The car dipped -and slowed, then ran into a stop valve, like a piston in a closed -cylinder, and stopped on a dense cushion of compressed air.</p> - -<p>Another vista of platforms radiated away from the terminal.</p> - -<p>Gripping Torry's hand, Tharol Sen dragged him firmly along the -platform, then down a steep slant to the lowest levels. At intervals, -radilumes provided glaring light, but shadows of raw fantasy lingered -curiously near the walls. Tomblike oppression gathered around them. -Panic grows quickly underground; weight of rock pressing overhead -translates itself to the brain in terms of claustrophobia.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Metallic decking became raw stone floor, and an endless tunnel unwound -before them. Torry lost all track of direction, even the primary up -and down. They went through underground workings like city streets -lined with open front factories. Gray, barren vistas of workrooms were -relieved by the stark symmetries of sleek machines, shielded atomic -converters, and patiently revolving turbines. Here was the marvelously -efficient underground economy of the old Martian civilization, still -functioning and serving the remnants of a great race of builders and -scientists.</p> - -<p>On soaring cantilevered balconies and in alcoves, Torry glimpsed cliff -like structures of offices and dwellings. Giant compressors labored to -force a mighty pulse of breakable air—but the atmosphere was warm, -dry and stifling. Runnels of sweat ran down Torry's body and vanished -in quick evaporation; fever and exertion alternated in him; he blew -hot and cold as energy burned away too quickly, and as drying sweat -produced intense, quick chills. Temperatures dropped. Air seemed denser -and was poisonously clouded with dust, but it was cool. Slowly it -became chill and depressing with a hint of dampness in it. They came -into a maze of galleries and pits, tunnels and vaults, less used and -uninhabited portions of the deep-workings.</p> - -<p>It was like a world apart, a place of dim storage bins with natural -refrigeration, of packing sheds piled high with mountains of commercial -molds, bales of dry, compressed and packed mushrooms. It smelled stale -and foul, the air hideous with a powdery mist of mold dust and spores, -and the incredible mustiness of mushroom spoilage. These caverns were -empty of life, as if the troglodyte Martians had long ago joined their -mummied dead.</p> - -<p>Weakness suddenly caught up with Torry. Dizzy, he caught in panic at -Tharol Sen for support. Grudgingly, after a moment's hesitation, she -granted the help.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," Torry apologized. "It's been a rather active three days. I -guess Ferax and his boys hurt me more than I had thought."</p> - -<p>"They are good at hurting people," admitted the girl. "You still want -to go on in this condition?"</p> - -<p>"Don't mind me. Just give me a minute." Torry was painfully aware of -her strong, slender body beneath the filmy garments of spidersilk. To -change the subject, he said, "Don't tell me you're planning to venture -out to Pluto or Triton in that costume?"</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen made a face. "Hardly. There are spacesuits ready. We'll need -them, don't worry. Roper says Triton is hardly livable at all, even -protected. You'll find out if you've the nerve to go through with me."</p> - -<p>"So Planet X is not even a planet, just one of Neptune's moons?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it was a planet once. Both Pluto and Triton are not like the -rest of the solar system planets. They may have been two stray worlds -from outer space, captured long ago by our sun. For their size they -have mass out of all proportion. The quantities of heavy metals beyond -uranium give them extreme weight and density. Pluto has a density of -over fifty times that of water. Triton not so much, but still greater -by far than Earth's density, which is roughly five or six times that of -water. Though smaller than Mercury or Ganymede, Triton has a gravity -only slightly less than Earth's and a far denser atmosphere blanket."</p> - -<p>Torry laughed grimly. "That's a big speech for you."</p> - -<p>"Too long a speech," she agreed irritably. "Especially with the police -close behind us."</p> - -<p>Torry sighed. "Okay. We'll go on. This is a lot of trouble over one -slimy mirage salesman."</p> - -<p>"Mirage salesman? Why do you call him that?"</p> - -<p>"Simple enough. That's all he's ever peddled. Pot of gold at the end of -the rainbow to tempt the greedy and unwary. And rainbows are circular, -with no beginning and no end. Haven't you ever heard the term?"</p> - -<p>"I have now. I wondered, that's all. There are mirages on Triton. He'll -have plenty to sell."</p> - -<p>Torry snorted. "I can see you've bought one."</p> - -<p>Flasher signals on the wall began to blink rapidly.</p> - -<p>They moved steadily onward, faster than before, into a still more -shadowy region. Light itself seemed to exist only at long intervals -where age-old radilumes performed a feeble service. The spongy floor -of rotten bedrock was scummed over with moss to make for slippery -footing. Formations of natural rock seemed like stage furniture -designed by elves and gnomes, in which stone mimicked monstrosities of -the vegetable world. Fat, knotted stalagmites suggested tree trunks, -and the darkness overhead appeared like shadowy densities of foliage. -Seepage had fretted the walls into lacy limestone traceries like a fern -forest. They went on, with tense silence savage between them.</p> - -<p>Alarm blinkers flashed light codes of rapid pursuit.</p> - -<p>"Your people must have had much contact with the police to have worked -out such a set-up," observed Torry.</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen nodded. "We have been persecuted for centuries. Not many -Earthfolk have ever been here. Nor any others but my own people."</p> - -<p>"Yet the police seem to be finding their way."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen frowned. "That puzzles me," she admitted. "How could they -come here at all unless someone has betrayed us?"</p> - -<p>From close behind sounded the loud buzzing of a radiation detector. A -thin pencil beam flashed at them and splashed wetly over the cavern -wall ahead. Rock shattered in a brittle, crunchy explosion. Murderous -chips deluged the tunnel.</p> - -<p>Torry lunged at the girl, dragging her down in a savage fall. More -beams of light licked out, this time from several directions. -Continuous thunders roared and reverberated, stunning ears and brains -with concussion and sound. Roughly, Torry thrust the girl into a wall -niche for shelter.</p> - -<p>"The police!" wailed Tharol Sen.</p> - -<p>"Looks as if we're trapped. We'd better give ourselves up."</p> - -<p>She stared at him with contempt. "You still have your gun. If you're -afraid, give it to me."</p> - -<p>"One gun against a dozen. No thanks."</p> - -<p>Waiting for a lull in the blast uproar, Torry called out. His voice -rang hollowly in the cavern, still shuddering with echoes of the -explosions.</p> - -<p>"Hold your fire. We're coming out."</p> - -<p>Grannar's voice answered. "Throw out your gun first."</p> - -<p>Torry complied. His gun rattled on the floor of rock.</p> - -<p>Pushing Tharol Sen sullenly before him, Torry stood clear. In a moment, -the tunnel was full of uniformed figures.</p> - -<p>Grannar studied Torry with some amusement. "You needn't have gone so -fast. I got your note, but your trail ran into a dead end at Ferax's -office. It took time to pick it up again but we found it beside Sen -Bas' body in his gardens. Clever deal, Torry. Using radioactive dust on -your shoes like that. Shall we handcuff Tharol Sen and take her back?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Torry glumly. "She's going to show us the way to Roper."</p> - -<p>"So you betrayed us?" asked Tharol Sen, contempt making her face ugly.</p> - -<p>"That's a matter of opinion."</p> - -<p>Grannar broke in. "Better pick up your gun, Torry. You may need it. How -many men shall we take?"</p> - -<p>Torry shrugged. "That depends on the number of spacesuits available. -How many, Tharol Sen?"</p> - -<p>"Three," she replied bitterly. "Do you think two of you dare tackle -Roper alone?"</p> - -<p>"I think so. How about it, Grannar?"</p> - -<p>The policeman grunted.</p> - -<p>The matter transmitter was already set up. Upon its folding framework -the screen glittered like woven quicksilver, vibrating to the hum of -electro magnetic flow.</p> - -<p>"Will this take us directly to Roper?" asked Grannar.</p> - -<p>"Not quite," said Torry, grinning. "It's a delicate adjustment. Mars -and Neptune both in motion, and Triton's orbit and axial rotation to -consider. We'll be somewhere on Triton—"</p> - -<p>"But Triton has more land surface than Earth. Can we find—"</p> - -<p>Torry gestured. "She'll find him for us. Have your men stand by and -switch on the transmitter every three hours."</p> - -<p>Dressed for space, the three entered the screen.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - -<p>Planet X—or Neptune's moon, Triton—was a vast mirage with many -facets. Atmosphere was as dense and still as water in ocean deeps. Sky -was cloudless, but not clear, apparently built up of different layers -of gases, and the light was both glaring and erratic. At a distance of -over three and a half billion miles from the Sun, most of the light -was not sunlight, and the little that came through the air ocean was -filtered and absorbed into curious colors and intensities. Other -illumination sources were auroral displays, radioactive hotspots that -glowed like eery ghosts, and volcanic outbursts of crimson or gold.</p> - -<p>Surface pressure of the atmospheric ocean was extreme, and the gas -densities and weird light gave an uncanny submarine illusion. Venturing -onto the surface of Triton, Torry felt like a diver in that long-past -period when man's last frontier on Earth had seemed the ocean deeps. -Gravity, greater than on Mars, but less than Earth's, gave a sense of -buoyancy; the spacesuiting was not unlike ancient diving costume; and -the thickness of the atmosphere itself suggested deep, still water.</p> - -<p>Most disturbing of all were the mirages. All the familiar effects of -Earth mirages were present but magnified and even multiplied into -infinite complexities. To a scientist of optics or meteorology, Triton -would be a superb laboratory. To Torry, it was—</p> - -<p>Near madness...!</p> - -<p>Mirages by hundreds and thousands floated between surface and zenith, -or hugged the ground like captive nightmares. Pinnacled dream mountains -rose from bases of empty air. Phantom battlements and mock castles -stormed upward from nothing. Magnified rockeries became goblin cities, -looming near or far in equal scale. Water glittered in the sky and -on the ground, and floating debris became fleets of fairy argosies. -Lateral mirages played eery jokes with distance. All images seemed -unreal, and diffraction haloed them with misty, rainbow coloring.</p> - -<p>Triton itself was bleak, savage, merciless, nearly windless but for -vagrant currents of slow-moving dense air, like currents in an ocean.</p> - -<p>By levels, temperatures were absurdly high or low, depending upon -location or freak circumstances. It was a lifeless world, inhospitable -to man. But it wore a mask and costume of exotic, lying beauty, and -masquerade was hard to distinguish from the harsh reality. Anything -definite was hard to distinguish.</p> - -<p>Grannar turned up the microphone in his helmet, and his words rattled -from Torry's speaker.</p> - -<p>"How can we find Roper in such a madhouse as this?" he roared.</p> - -<p>Torry winced as the amplified outburst thundered in his ears.</p> - -<p>"Simple enough," he replied. "Fine detective you are. There's a radio -compass built into Tharol Sen's suit. Roper's sending all the time. -She'll go to him like a homing pigeon."</p> - -<p>"Pigeon is right," muttered Grannar. "Hope it's not too far. A little -more of this would make me neurotic. Can we trust her?"</p> - -<p>Torry laughed. "Yes and no. She hates us, but she'll lead us to Roper. -That transmitter is his only way back to Mars. And hers, too. Isn't -that right, Tharol Sen?"</p> - -<p>Fortunately her reply did not come through clearly.</p> - -<p>Following the radio compass, which behaved erratically due to magnetic -discharges, they moved through the wilderness of the mirages. Progress -was deceptive, without reliable landmarks. Rugged terrain made -treacherous going. Megalithic cities and monstrous mountains appeared -and disappeared like patterns in a kaleidoscope. In the eccentric -lighting, vision itself seemed to flicker as treacherously as a three-d -projector running out of balance. Constant distortions and fading out -produced mental nausea and physical insecurity.</p> - -<p>Torry was not sure where his next step would take him. One instant he -seemed to flounder on the edge of abyss. The next, he would be climbing -what seemed an interminable mountain, only to have solid floors of rock -shimmer and vanish before his eyes. It was impossible to see where they -were going, or even be certain what it was like where they had just -been. Only the needle of the radio compass held any steadiness at all, -and that jerked into wild whirlings now and then as magnetic currents -ebbed and flowed in the ground.</p> - -<p>They seemed, through rifts in the mirages, to be traversing a monstrous -field of jagged boulders, inclined slightly upward. Even these rocks -were not always as substantial as they looked, but for the most part, -they were real obstacles. The thought crossed Torry's mind that it -would be a bad place for an ambush if Roper were so inclined.</p> - -<p>When the facts materialized his fears, the pencil beam of a blaster -cutting through the mirages seemed only part of a dazzling auroral -display.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The explosion that followed demonstrated its reality. Rock chips and -larger fragments rained about them. In the dense medium of atmosphere, -the shock wave was terrific, and even his spacesuit did not completely -insulate the blow. All three were flung about as if by earthquake. -Torry missed his footing and went down in a long sprawl, which saved -his life.</p> - -<p>The second blaster flash would have targeted him dead center. It -flickered harmless over him, touched the nearby boulders to sudden -glare, then lost itself in fearful detonation. Dodging the hail of -debris, Torry crawled quickly to shelter behind a larger boulder. With -gauntleted hands, he tested its solidity before he trusted himself to -relax.</p> - -<p>A harsh cry of pain and terror echoed in his ears. Its tones held -desperation. And the voice was Grannar's.</p> - -<p>By concentrating Torry could dimly make out the figure of the -detective. Grannar lay in a tumbled heap, threshing wildly and trying -to hold shut great rents in his space suit. He seemed to be injured, -for one leg was motionless while the rest of his body worked in -convulsions.</p> - -<p>Torry left his shelter and bounded toward the casualty. He bundled -Grannar roughly to his feet and hustled him into the nearest tangle -of solid rocks. A hastily aimed blaster beam hurried him at the task. -Crouching down, he examined Grannar. The policeman was conscious, -swearing valiantly. His leg was broken. Inside the space suit it would -be impossible to set the fracture. And outside, the toxic gases of -Triton would make short work of human breathing. Even the rents in the -suiting were dangerous.</p> - -<p>Working quickly, Torry clipped together the rents and sealed them -hermetically with compound from the repair kits.</p> - -<p>"That's the best I can do," he told the policeman grimly as his eyes -searched in vain for a sign of Roper. "You'll have to stand the rest -till we can get out of here and back to Mars."</p> - -<p>"What are our chances of getting out?"</p> - -<p>A man does not shrug in a spacesuit. "Not good," said Torry. "Roper can -keep us pinned here as long as he likes."</p> - -<p>"How long d'you think that'll be?"</p> - -<p>Torry grunted. "Till he gets tired of it and decides to stalk us and -kill us. Or till I go out and get him."</p> - -<p>"I see. It's like that, eh? Where's the girl?"</p> - -<p>"Who knows? She's either hiding out in the rocks, like us, or she's -found a way to join Roper. Does it matter?"</p> - -<p>"Not to me," mused Grannar. "I just hoped maybe she wasn't as rotten as -Roper ... that she might give us a chance."</p> - -<p>"Don't count on it," said Torry spitefully. "She might be as pure as an -angel, but Roper's sold her a bill of goods. Feeling as she does about -him, she'd kill either of us as quickly as Roper would."</p> - -<p>They waited in silence, while mirages came and went around them, -as light shifted, or slight currents stirred in the turbid air. If -Roper were a mirage salesman, he had certainly made his stand in the -wholesale house. Under other circumstances, Torry might have found -the displays interesting, even entertaining—but at the moment, his -reflections were as poisonous as the air on Triton.</p> - -<p>Colors flared and faded like a cross-spectrum of inferno.</p> - -<p>Grannar was restless with the pain in his leg. His squirming infected -Torry, who leaned out above the barrier of rocks waving his hand -violently. As he hoped, he attracted attention. A thin wire of light -kissed the rocks of the barrier. Chips pelted like hail, and the force -of the blast set up thunderous echoes in his helmet.</p> - -<p>"He must have rigged a scanner of some sort. Such shooting is too good -for a man with mirages in his eyes. Would something like infra-red -help?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," groaned Grannar. "In any case, we haven't the time or -the means to work out a scanner."</p> - -<p>"I think I'll try crawling out of here. If I keep low, I might be able -to work around and come up behind him. Is it all right with you if I -give it a try?"</p> - -<p>"Why not? Outside of your life, what have you got to lose?"</p> - -<p>"I hate to leave you here unless you want it that way. But there's not -much future for you, anyhow, if I stay."</p> - -<p>"Do whatever you like. I guess I owe you something, and I like to pay -my debts. Any other last wishes?"</p> - -<p>"Just one. I want him...."</p> - -<p>"Roper? You want to kill him?" Grannar sounded baffled.</p> - -<p>"Kill or cure."</p> - -<p>"I don't understand."</p> - -<p>"You want him on Mars for murder. He's wanted on Earth for lesser -crimes. That gives you priority. You can demand and get extradition -for him to Mars, which means quick death in the atomic disintegrators, -or slow death in the prison mines. On Earth, they have a clinic for -incurables like Roper. It's a free choice for them, euthanasia or -voluntary submission to the clinic."</p> - -<p>Grannar hesitated. "I know about that. But isn't such a treatment -almost as dangerous as being killed outright, and a lot tougher on the -subject?"</p> - -<p>"It can be," granted Torry flatly. "Sometimes the hypnotic -memory-blanking or the shock treatment wrecks the brain. And the -glandular surgery and hormone dosage can turn a man into a freak and -monster. If it works, the criminal is rebuilt mentally and morally, -re-created with a new personality, and completely new educational -background. He's hardly the same man, and often his old friends can't -recognize him physically."</p> - -<p>Grannar's eyes narrowed. "In Roper's case, that might be an advantage. -Of course I'm familiar with the clinic and its work in rehabilitating -incorrigibles. But do you think any treatment could work the miracle -with Roper?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know and don't care. People like Roper help make life colorful -and interesting. But they're too hard on everyone around them. His -adolescent-stasis carries his own damnation for him. He's miserably -unhappy, along with everyone who knows him. He imagines he's smarter -and superior to other people, and that it's his duty to prey on them. -Mentally, he's a rotten-spoiled child. But a dangerous one. Like the -one rotten apple, he spreads his rottenness through the whole barrel."</p> - -<p>"I'm familiar with that theory of crime but I don't go along with it. -I'm not convinced you can unspoil a rotten apple, and I doubt if it's -worth while to try."</p> - -<p>"No matter," said Torry grimly. "If they fail on him, they'll destroy -him. Either way, it will make a better world for everyone. Probably I -hate him more than you do. But I'm willing to give him this last chance -if you'll let me."</p> - -<p>Grannar laughed ironically. "Have it your way, if you can take him. -It's out of my hands, actually. Though, as a cop, I'd be better -satisfied if you burned him down here, I'll settle for your clinic. -It's a nasty enough choice, anyhow. If you can capture or kill him, go -ahead. I'll gladly resign my share of the brute to you. And you'll earn -it. Do you really think you can crawl out of here and circle him?"</p> - -<p>Torry glanced sourly at the flickering mirages. "I can try," he said -slowly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It was a mirage that saved Torry.</p> - -<p>Going proved even rougher than he had expected. Squirming over unknown -terrain is hard, even in conditions of fair visibility. On Triton, -with its constantly varying light, and the ever-present confusion of -mirages, it was fantastic. The cumbersome space suit was no help.</p> - -<p>Darkness thickened around him, but the mirages grew worse, as he toiled -up the slope. Loose stones rattled about him in tiny avalanches, and he -went more carefully, lest they betray him to Roper. Sweat bathed him -inside his insulated costume, and steam misted the helmet's face plate -before he could get the thermal conditioners functioning properly. A -bad foothold earned him a nasty fall, and the rough suiting and acid -sweat combined to burn painful blisters on hands and knees.</p> - -<p>In grim determination approximating madness, he plunged upward and -onward. He found an eroded ravine and groped blindly along it, -wondering what fearful liquids had gashed such a gully on such a -nightmarish world.</p> - -<p>Alien dusk gathered, and in the hollow of the ravine writhed coils -of living light. At intervals, he avoided the hot glaring flares of -radioactive hotspots. Torry followed the barren fissure, and strange -sounds and fleeting light-phantoms followed him. And a river of dense, -sluggish air funneled upward through the gully, whispering of ugly, -forgotten events upon a forgotten world. In the uneasy sky overhead, -electrical discharges wove networks of colored lightnings, which -crackled and hissed as static in his earphones.</p> - -<p>Nearing the upper end of the gully, Torry halted and took stock of -his surroundings. He estimated progress, and wondered how he would -ever find his quarry. His quest seemed one more mad illusion in the -sequence of mirages. He freed his blaster from its magnetic belt clip -and examined it for charge. Crawling with the weapon in his hand was -awkward, but it would be suicide to be caught reaching for it. Grimly -he worked his way to the notch of the ravine and poked out his head.</p> - -<p>Ironically, it was the mirage that saved him.</p> - -<p>A lateral mirage, distorting both distance and direction, showed him -a sharp image, inverted, of Roper aiming carefully in the opposite -direction.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Instantly, Torry let go his grasp and dropped. He fell and rolled -savagely, while the lance of light stabbed overhead, and the explosion -started small landslides around him. He screamed in momentary panic. -Preventing a helpless plunge into an abyss which opened before him was -a chore. And the abyss itself proved only illusion. Solid wall blocked -his fall and stunned him for a terrible moment. Miraculously, he -retained a grip on his gun.</p> - -<p>He lay quietly, while rocks continued to rattle upon his helmet and -spacesuit. Someone was descending toward him. It could be only—</p> - -<p>Roper.</p> - -<p>The visible face behind the plate of transparent plastic could -have been poured in the same mold as Torry's. It was younger, -finer-featured, but it was shrewd, self-indulgent. Roper had enjoyed -his life of crime, and it had agreed with him. He looked healthy, -humorously handsome and extremely well-fed.</p> - -<p>He stared at Torry, and the expression on his face changed as he saw -the blaster. He started a movement toward his own clipped weapon.</p> - -<p>"Don't try it, Bart," ordered Torry sharply. "I think I'd enjoy killing -you."</p> - -<p>Bart Roper sighed deeply. "You took unfair advantage of me," he -complained. "I thought you were hurt or killed. I was coming to see—"</p> - -<p>"To make sure of me, if you'd missed? Maybe not. Maybe you did have a -human impulse for once. I'll try to think so. And you can see how much -it hurts when someone takes advantage of any human weakness. It hurts, -doesn't it?"</p> - -<p>Roper nodded slowly. "It does. So you've got me! Don't be so proud of -yourself. It wasn't that hard. I was cooked from the moment your police -pals got their hands on the transmitter. It was my only way out. You -know that, of course. I just wanted the pleasure of taking some of you -with me. I'm not going back to Mars. The disintegrators, or life in the -prison mines don't appeal to me. So you'd better kill me now."</p> - -<p>"I will if you force me," Torry told him wearily. "But I'm not making -it that easy for you. There's a choice, but you won't like it. I've -made a deal with Grannar. You can die now, or you can go back to Earth -to the clinic."</p> - -<p>"The clinic!" shrieked Roper. "You know what that means. I wouldn't be -the same person. Maybe not even human."</p> - -<p>Torry steadied his eyes on his brother. "I'm not sure you ever were -human. But you need treatment. They'll knock out your thymus, drug -you and shock you and carve you till you'll never know yourself. You -won't be an antisocial monster with the emotional stasis of a child. -You won't be anything you've ever been. But you may be a man. And -you'll stop hurting people, or they'll stop you for good. The choice is -yours—right now. So make up both our minds before I decide to shoot."</p> - -<p>Roper yielded with a grimace of distaste. "You win, Torry. You always -did, sooner or later. I was quicker, but you were smarter. I guess -Rose was the last of your toys I'll ever swipe. And it's back to -kindergarten for Bart Roper."</p> - -<p>Torry relaxed, though he still did not lower his gun.</p> - -<p>"You'll be going back on the survey ship, Bart. That way, you'll have a -long voyage in the brig to meditate on your sins. But on Earth, you'll -have Rose. You're a married man there, with a wife and child. Rose -still loves you, Bart. When you steal something, it stays stolen. I'm -not going back, so you'll get Rose after all."</p> - -<p>Roper laughed coldly. "That's what I meant about your being smarter -than I am. You always come out ahead."</p> - -<p>Torry's eyes followed a moving mirage to a notch high on the walls of -the gully. The glitter of cold metal was not illusion. Tharol Sen held -a gun on him, unwaveringly.</p> - -<p>"You can come out now," Torry said to her. "It's all over."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen lowered her gun and walked unsteadily toward them.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't you shoot?" Roper stormed at her angrily. "You could have -killed him before he pulled the trigger."</p> - -<p>Inside her face plate. Torry could see her eyes dim with hot tears.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I could have," she said brokenly. "But maybe I've seen enough -mirages to recognize one...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Many Martian hours later, three people watched the survey ship blast -off from Triton. Before the ship left, Grannar had been taken aboard -and removed from his spacesuit long enough for drugs to be administered -and his legs set and splinted. Now, with painkilling narcotics -deadening him, the policeman was scarcely aware of the departing ship -with his prisoner aboard, consigned bodily to Earth and its clinic for -incurable criminals. Grannar had relaxed into a dope-daydream of a -comfortable future on Earth as a plankton farmer, with nothing to do -but read minifilm detective stories.</p> - -<p>Watching the ship vanish beyond a skyful of mirages, Torry tried vainly -to conquer a feeling of depression. Loneliness swept over him, as if -with the sudden termination of his obsession about Roper, his life had -lost most of its meaning. It occurred to him suddenly that Tharol Sen -must be feeling infinitely worse. With a quick glance toward Grannar -to make sure that the policeman was all right, Torry climbed slowly to -the eyrie in the high rocks where the girl had hidden herself. Like a -doll in a space suit, Tharol Sen huddled together, staring upward as if -toward some vanishing illusion.</p> - -<p>Shared loneliness sometimes loses its sting.</p> - -<p>But Tharol Sen ignored Torry's presence, and he felt acutely -embarrassed.</p> - -<p>"You'll be better off without him," Torry said, consoling her. "And -life will be much simpler."</p> - -<p>"I know that," she replied sharply. "What else did you want?"</p> - -<p>Torry laughed.</p> - -<p>"Business, I guess. According to Solar Spacelaw, we three are sole -owners of Triton and its mineral rights, since we were on the spot and -in possession when the survey ship arrived. Your people will have the -transuranics they need. But the stuff won't work in the transmitter, so -it'll have to go in the hard way. High freight charges will cut down -the profits, so I don't think any of us will get rich. I'm sure that -Grannar will sell his rights cheap: And as far as I'm concerned, I'd -rather your people had the stuff at cost, so I'll sign over my rights -to them for the forty-one thousand credits I've invested. Also, you can -claim salvage rights on the transmitter of a third of the value, and -I'm sure the inventor will be happy to have it back at that. I won't -ask any part of the salvage claim. Money just weighs me down anyhow."</p> - -<p>"That's very generous of you," murmured Tharol Sen. "My people will be -very grateful to you."</p> - -<p>"And you," he asked. "Just how grateful will you be?"</p> - -<p>Her eyes blinked, then stared soberly through the face plate of her -helmet. "Ask that again—"</p> - -<p>"It's not part of the deal, of course. But you bragged that you -could make Roper forget a girl back on Earth. I need some full time -forgetting, and I wondered if you'd like to try the same stunt for me."</p> - -<p>Tharol Sen studied him for a long moment before answering.</p> - -<p>"When we're out of these helmets," she said softly, "you can kiss me. -Just once. For gratitude. Afterward, much later, we can think about the -rest, and discuss it with dignity. If you're staying on Mars, why not -look me up ... sometime?"</p> - -<p>"Why not?" asked Torry, grinning. Then without waiting for the kiss, he -made his decision. 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