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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wreck Off Triton, by Alfred Coppel
-
-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: Wreck Off Triton
-
-Author: Alfred Coppel
-
-Release Date: December 08, 2020 [EBook #63987]
-
-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 WRECK OFF TRITON ***
-
-
-
-
- Wreck Off Triton
-
- By ALFRED COPPEL
-
- _His plans were thorough. Every risk had been
- closely considered. Now Ron Carnavon, ruthless
- convict, was ready to loot the wrecked spaceship
- of its sapphire treasure, and thrust his warped power
- around the entire, antagonistic EMV triangle._
-
- [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
- Planet Stories November 1951.
- Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
- the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
-
-
-Ron Carnavon had been the skipper of the late _Thunderbird_, and it
-was common knowledge in every port of the EMV triangle that he had
-scuttled her. There was a price on his head, and the High Space Guard
-was combing the spacelanes for him--and for the _Thunderbird_. For the
-_Thunderbird_ was a treasure ship.
-
-But Carnavon was a cautious man and no fool, for all that he'd
-committed barratry. He left the _Thunderbird_ in a Trojan orbit a
-million miles off Triton, ruptured and spilling corpses into space. He
-took a spaceboat and jetted sunward to the Holcomb Foundation Outpost
-on Oberon. Then he stowed away on the mail ship to Canalopolis, still
-carrying the chart that showed the _Thunderbird's_ position. In the
-Canal City, Carnavon evaded the lax Guard cordons and found himself a
-renegade Martian hypnosurgeon to change his face and fingerprints.
-
-From then on it was easy. Across Syrtis Major by sand-ski to Marsport
-posing as a prospector. And from Marsport down the Grand Canal to the
-spaceman's boneyard at Yakki. It was there that he met and hired Pop
-Wills and the _Carefree_.
-
-Ron Carnavon acted with characteristic caution when he chose Pop and
-the _Carefree_ to do the ghoul work on the ship he had murdered. Pop's
-ship was a rusty bucket, but well enough fixed to reach Triton where
-the _Thunderbird's_ corpse orbited, her vault heavy with Plutonian
-sapphires. And Pop needed work badly. He was almost too broke to outfit
-his ship for the flight. Carnavon noted with curling lip that most of
-Pop's assets had long ago been liquidated to buy gin. The long years
-in space had taken a toll on the old man. Actually a greater toll than
-even Carnavon could have imagined.
-
-Pop and the _Carefree_ fitted in with Carnavon's plans to perfection.
-Pop had been in trouble more than once with the High Space Guard. Pop
-was an old soak who wouldn't be missed. When something happened to the
-_Carefree_, the rest of the beached wrecks in Yakki would only shake
-their heads and agree that Pop had pushed the old bucket a few Gs too
-hard somewhere. That was just the end the wrecker had in mind for Pop
-when his job was finished, too.
-
-It was only reasonable. He couldn't let Pop live to tell the Guard that
-Ron Carnavon had had a hypnosurgical metamorphosis. Even a fortune in
-sapphires couldn't buy the High Space Guard. It was far too well-heeled
-with Holcomb Foundation money, and it took its duties to the
-inhabitants of the Earth-Mars-Venus Triangle seriously. A cautious man
-would realize this and take the proper steps. In this case the proper
-steps would be the elimination of Pop Wills when his job was done.
-
-But everyone makes mistakes. Carnavon made one when he selected Pop
-and the _Carefree_. With all the rusty hulks dotting the ramps of
-Yakki, and with all the even rustier skippers there, he should have
-hired someone else. Anyone else. Ron Carnavon should have connected
-Pop Wills with the twelve-year-old cabin boy of the _Thunderbird_. The
-youngster's name had been Wills, too. But of course, Carnavon couldn't
-have been expected to remember everything. Just coincidence--but those
-things do happen.
-
-So these two lifted from Mars together. A captain who had wrecked his
-own ship and a gin-soaked old man whose only son had died because
-of it. And neither knew the other for what he was. To Carnavon, Pop
-was just a fall-guy doing his job in proper sucker fashion. And to
-Pop Wills, Carnavon was just John Smith who wanted to go to Grid
-M332254-89OK off Triton and was willing to pay well for the privilege.
-
-The wrecker ordered the course and Pop set it. Mars began to dwindle
-and the Belt loomed up ahead. The _Carefree_ threaded her way through
-the rocky maze and on past Saturn and Uranus in a free-falling arc. She
-was slow, but in space "slow" is a relative term. The Outer Planets
-were in triple conjunction and with their help, the old boat made time.
-Carnavon checked the course daily, and Pop accepted the corrections
-without protest. After all, John Smith was paying for the trip and he
-seemed to know what he was doing. No questions asked. Carnavon liked
-that. No questions, no trouble. He couldn't have been more wrong.
-
- * * * * *
-
-It's hard to say in mere words what old Pop must have felt when he
-picked up the wreck of the _Thunderbird_ on the radar. He recognized
-the image, of course. The _Thunderbird_ was unique among spacers. Then
-he checked her position against the chart that Carnavon had marked and
-realized why they had come. He realized too who this John Smith was,
-and hate pulsed through him in sickening waves. Pop wasn't a brave man,
-and he was past his prime, but he could still hate.
-
-Almost without conscious thought, Pop broke out the Ultra-Wave and
-began calling the Guard. He broadcast full particulars, co-ordinates,
-descriptions, everything. He was at it when Carnavon found him and sent
-him crashing against the control panels with a smashing overhand right
-to the mouth.
-
-Pop sprawled on the metal decking and watched the wrecker carefully
-smash every communicating device on the ship's panel. There was a
-throbbing pain in his head where he had struck the shabbily padded
-control console, and the thick taste of blood was in his bruised mouth.
-He watched Carnavon like an animal, a hurt, impotently raging beast.
-And he began to be afraid. Even his hate couldn't spare him that, for
-Pop was afraid to die and he knew just what his chances were now.
-
-Carnavon, on the other hand, didn't waste time hating. He didn't know
-why Pop had called copper, and he didn't really care. Pop wasn't
-important. The sapphires in the _Thunderbird's_ vault. _They_ were
-important. He'd come too far to abandon them now.
-
-It would take nine minutes for Pop's radio appeal to reach the nearest
-Guard base, Carnavon calculated. And it would take six hours for
-the fastest Guard ship to reach them after that. He could board the
-_Thunderbird_ and loot her in not more than two hours. That would
-still give the _Carefree_ a four hour start on the Guard, and in deep
-space four hours were as good as four thousand. Carnavon still wasn't
-worried. The wrecking of the _Thunderbird_ had been the work of months,
-and he wasn't going to panic now. Ron Carnavon wasn't that sort of a
-criminal.
-
-Blaster in hand, he motioned Pop to his feet. He wondered vaguely just
-why the old man had taken such a chance. He couldn't have any notions
-of collecting the reward for Carnavon. The amount was less than the
-amount he was getting for doing this--Carnavon smiled bleakly--salvage
-job. And the old man was a coward. He could see it in the trembling of
-the blue-veined hands, in the shifting faintness of the watery blue
-eyes. The wrecker shrugged aside the thoughts as unimportant and set to
-work.
-
-With a blaster in his ribs, Pop Wills did as he was told. He braked the
-_Carefree_ to a stop twenty miles from the ruptured hulk of the liner.
-There were beads of sweat standing out on Pop's forehead and his hands
-shook on the firing console. A thin trickle of dark blood marred his
-stubbled chin. His battered lips were unsteady.
-
-For a few bad moments, Pop Wills thought Carnavon was going to blast
-him as soon as the _Carefree_ lost way, but then even his gin-soaked
-mind began to understand that the end wasn't quite yet. Carnavon needed
-help looting the murdered liner. If he was going to lay his hands on
-her valuables before the Guard appeared, he'd have to get Pop working
-with him. Maybe if Pop had been more of a man he could have stopped
-the wrecker cold right there, but long years of boozing had left Pop
-weak. He could hate well enough, but fear conquers even hate. And that
-blaster that followed him in every movement made Pop's thin blood run
-cold. Life--even a life like Pop Wills'--was better than the black void
-of death. Pop was ready to buy a few more minutes of life at almost any
-price, even from the man who had killed his boy. The old man was like a
-rusty watch-spring--battered and wound to the utmost limit. And jammed
-there. Frozen by the reality of that ugly blaster and the cold eyes
-behind it, Pop would help Carnavon. He couldn't help himself. And his
-hate expanded to include his own senile weakness....
-
- * * * * *
-
-The _Thunderbird_ spun slowly in the light of the faraway sun, the rent
-in her hull gaping like a mouthful of jagged teeth. She had been a
-beautiful thing once, but she was ugly now in death. She had not died
-gracefully. Her back had been broken and her innards scattered. She
-orbited sullenly, and around her spun the broken fragments of her inner
-body--the bloated, frozen corpses of the men she'd carried. Against the
-backdrop of the stars and the blaze of the Milky Way, she seemed to be
-a blot on the heavens. Pop Wills and Ron Carnavon watched her, each of
-them with his own thoughts. Then the wrecker motioned toward the suit
-lockers with his blaster.
-
-It took a bit of doing to get into his own pressure suit and still keep
-the blaster pointed at Wills, but Carnavon was a large man, and supple,
-and he managed it well enough.
-
-The _Carefree_ had no escape boat, so there was nothing for it but to
-rely on the suit motors to take them across to the _Thunderbird_. It
-promised to be slow going, for the suit motors were weak and produced
-only one tenth G of thrust. Almost anything thrown out ahead by a man
-in a space-suit was enough to stop him cold. The recoil overcame the
-suit motor with ridiculous ease and though the motor labored mightily,
-it would take a long while to reestablish the original direction of
-movement. But Carnavon had an answer for that, too.
-
-A quick check of the radar showed that there were still no Guard ships
-within hailing distance. Carnavon's original estimate of the time it
-would take the Space Guard to arrive on the scene turned out to be
-surprisingly accurate.
-
-He connected his suit to Pop's with a short cable and snap-hooks and
-together they made their way to the _Carefree's_ dorsal valve.
-
-Carnavon had no intention of sweating out a long, slow crossing to
-the hulk, so he ran the lock pressure up high and waited until the
-outer hatch was lined up with the derelict liner. Then with a sudden
-movement, he spun the wheel and popped the outer portal. Pop and
-Carnavon shot into space like grotesque _bolas_. The _Thunderbird_
-loomed up ahead.
-
-Pop kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. He saw more than an
-old man might be expected to see, too. For instance he saw that
-Carnavon--cautious though he might be--had neglected to take an extra
-magazine for his blaster. That meant that there were just three shots
-in the weapon. One of which, Pop figured, would be used against the
-vault of the scuttled liner. Not that the old man was making any plans.
-He was still too weighted by his fear and his sense of impotence for
-that. He merely noticed, and prayed to the gods of space that one of
-those shots in the blaster might not be meant for him.
-
-As they drew near the liner, Pop felt nausea churning his stomach.
-The ship was surrounded by satellites. Space-bloated bodies, naked
-and misshapen in the bitter light of the dim sun that reflected off
-the pitted flanks of the burst vessel. Spread-eagled grotesquely,
-the corpses circled their ship, puffy things of horror with staring
-eyes and extended fingers. Other things, too, circled the hulk.
-Small, commonplace items. A clock, a chair, shattered crockery. Tiny,
-inconsequential things, all mutely accusing--all muttering silently
-that their ship had been betrayed by someone who should have protected
-her.
-
-Pop glanced over at Carnavon. Through the steelglass bubble of his
-helmet he could see the wrecker's face. There was no expression on
-it other than concentration--and greed. Pop knew about greed. He'd
-lived with greed and degradation a lot in his last few years. He hated
-Carnavon even more now for having reminded him--but he was still too
-sick with futility to do more than tell himself that he had done all
-he could do. He _had_ called the Guard, after all. And then, for an
-awful moment he found himself regretting that he had done even that and
-thereby lost all hope of life....
-
-Their magnetic shoes touched the _Thunderbird's_ hull with a sound
-faintly carried through the air in their suits. They stood on the
-curving surface, etched in black against the starry sky. A few feet
-away from them, the terminator was inching toward them as the derelict
-rotated slowly.
-
- * * * * *
-
-With Carnavon leading the way, they clumped heavily to the ripped and
-tortured hull plates where the _Thunderbird_ had been sundered. By the
-light of their helmet lights Pop could see the thoroughness of the
-wrecker's work. He had been her captain, this Carnavon, and he had
-known just how to murder her. The outer hull was a shambles and the
-pressure hull holed in three places. It had been a thorough job. Only
-one prepared for the sudden horror of her death could have survived it.
-Pop Wills thought of his boy and sobbed.
-
-The dark companionways were empty, blown clean by the violence of the
-_Thunderbird's_ death. Ron Carnavon led the way down into the ship to
-the purser's office and the vault.
-
-Rubble cluttered the small room, bulkheads bent awry and pipes and
-wires littered the deck. Carnavon turned Pop loose and set him to
-work cleaning out a path to the vault. Pop's breath was coming in
-shuddering, grating gasps when he finished the work a half-hour later.
-Carnavon nodded approvingly and motioned him away from the vault.
-
-Pop watched while the wrecker braced himself and took careful aim at
-the vault's lock mechanism with the blaster. There was a searing flash
-of blue flame, and red sparks showered as the oxy-hydrogen bolt sliced
-into the steel of the door. Pop found himself praying fervently that it
-would take two more shots.
-
-Carnavon fired again, and the tiny room blazed. Pop muttered shakily
-under his breath and waiting for the wrecker to blast just once more.
-
-The lock surrendered in a trickle of white-hot slag and Pop felt
-himself sink low. There was still that one shot left for him--and he
-wasn't needed now.
-
-The door swung open and Carnavon knelt to rifle the vault. When he at
-last straightened, he held a pool of jagged blue fire in his gloved
-hand. The gems sparkled with a life of their own--two dozen faceted
-beauties--each worth a king's ransom--and each bought with a man's life.
-
-Presently they stood again on the outer hull, under an unreal canopy
-of stars. Nearby, a ghastly satellite was swinging inward toward the
-ship. Pop stared at it and back to Carnavon. He began to understand
-what the wrecker planned. He was going to leave him here--on the wreck.
-And he would die here. He understood that the shot that remained in the
-blaster wasn't for him after all. Carnavon wasn't going to waste it
-on him. There was a spanner in the wrecker's hand and he now advanced
-purposefully toward Pop Wills.
-
-Pop stepped backwards, retreating from the heavy figure of the wrecker.
-Fear was surging in waves through him--fear mixed with blind hate and
-contempt for himself and his senile weakness. Overhead, against the
-stars, the awful satellite drew nearer.
-
-Carnavon reduced the power in his magnetic shoes and moved lightly
-toward Pop, the spanner raised to strike. The old man stumbled against
-a long shard of steel on the hull that floated upward at his touch.
-Fear paralyzed him, and he stood now, waiting for the blow of the
-spanner that would smash his helmet and leave him a distended corpse
-spinning through space. Above him, the satellite spun inward.
-
-Pop glanced up--into the agonized, dead face of a twelve-year-old boy.
-He shrieked. The sound deafened him in the bubble of his helmet. All
-the fear and weakness turned to a bitter hate and surged forward in
-one insane motion toward his tormentor. The long shard of steel came
-to hand like a lance. The rusted, warped old watch spring that was Pop
-Wills recoiled and unwound in one raging moment. He charged Carnavon.
-
-Carnavon evaded the clumsy charge instinctively. With an almost
-unconscious motion, he raised the blaster and fired point-blank.
-
-The searing bolt caught Pop Wills in the chest and spun him around,
-tattered ribbons of charred flesh and melted metal from his suit
-intermingled. He curled inward upon himself in an awkward graceless
-fashion and sank to the hull plates, a nimbus of ice flowing from the
-gap in his suit as the water-vapor and blood spurted into the vacuum.
-But there was something strangely like a smile on his face as life left
-him. Pop had conquered his fear at last.
-
-But Carnavon, on the other end of the bolt of fire that had ended Pop
-Wills' life, spun outward--away from the _Thunderbird_, away from the
-_Carefree_, end over end, driven by the fiery recoil of his own weapon.
-At a speed considerably less than the muzzle-velocity of the blast, but
-still much higher than the best speed of the feeble suit motor, Ron
-Carnavon spun into space. Out and away, the precious sapphires spilling
-out of his hand, glittering in the faint sunlight as they took up their
-orbits about him like tiny, mocking moonlets....
-
- * * * * *
-
- UWR MESSAGE PRIORITY AA HIGH SPACE GUARD CORVETTE M-233 TO EMV BASE
- ONE OBERON STOP IN RESPONSE TO ALARM BROADCAST BY RS CAREFREE COMMA
- THIS VESSEL PROCEEDED TO GRID M332254-89OK COMMA LOCATED THERE
- MISSING RS THUNDERBIRD STOP RADAR SEARCH LOCATED MISSING CAPTAIN
- RON CARNAVON WANTED FOR MURDER AND BARRATRY STOP CARNAVON
- UNACCOUNTABLY FOUND AT CONSIDERABLE DISTANCE FROM VESSEL DEAD OF
- ASPHYXIATION DUE TO EXHAUSTION OF PRESSURE SUIT SUPPLIES STOP CASE
- MAY BE CONSIDERED CLOSED STOP END MESSAGE
-
- QUINBY CORVETTE M-233
-
- COMMANDER HSG
-
-*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WRECK OFF TRITON ***
-
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-<pre style='margin-bottom:6em;'>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wreck Off Triton, by Alfred Coppel
-
-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: Wreck Off Triton
-
-Author: Alfred Coppel
-
-Release Date: December 08, 2020 [EBook #63987]
-
-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 WRECK OFF TRITON ***
-</pre>
-<div class="titlepage">
-
-<h1>Wreck Off Triton</h1>
-
-<h2>By ALFRED COPPEL</h2>
-
-<p><i>His plans were thorough. Every risk had been<br />
-closely considered. Now Ron Carnavon, ruthless<br />
-convict, was ready to loot the wrecked spaceship<br />
-of its sapphire treasure, and thrust his warped power<br />
-around the entire, antagonistic EMV triangle.</i></p>
-
-<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br />
-Planet Stories November 1951.<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>Ron Carnavon had been the skipper of the late <i>Thunderbird</i>, and it
-was common knowledge in every port of the EMV triangle that he had
-scuttled her. There was a price on his head, and the High Space Guard
-was combing the spacelanes for him&mdash;and for the <i>Thunderbird</i>. For the
-<i>Thunderbird</i> was a treasure ship.</p>
-
-<p>But Carnavon was a cautious man and no fool, for all that he'd
-committed barratry. He left the <i>Thunderbird</i> in a Trojan orbit a
-million miles off Triton, ruptured and spilling corpses into space. He
-took a spaceboat and jetted sunward to the Holcomb Foundation Outpost
-on Oberon. Then he stowed away on the mail ship to Canalopolis, still
-carrying the chart that showed the <i>Thunderbird's</i> position. In the
-Canal City, Carnavon evaded the lax Guard cordons and found himself a
-renegade Martian hypnosurgeon to change his face and fingerprints.</p>
-
-<p>From then on it was easy. Across Syrtis Major by sand-ski to Marsport
-posing as a prospector. And from Marsport down the Grand Canal to the
-spaceman's boneyard at Yakki. It was there that he met and hired Pop
-Wills and the <i>Carefree</i>.</p>
-
-<p>Ron Carnavon acted with characteristic caution when he chose Pop and
-the <i>Carefree</i> to do the ghoul work on the ship he had murdered. Pop's
-ship was a rusty bucket, but well enough fixed to reach Triton where
-the <i>Thunderbird's</i> corpse orbited, her vault heavy with Plutonian
-sapphires. And Pop needed work badly. He was almost too broke to outfit
-his ship for the flight. Carnavon noted with curling lip that most of
-Pop's assets had long ago been liquidated to buy gin. The long years
-in space had taken a toll on the old man. Actually a greater toll than
-even Carnavon could have imagined.</p>
-
-<p>Pop and the <i>Carefree</i> fitted in with Carnavon's plans to perfection.
-Pop had been in trouble more than once with the High Space Guard. Pop
-was an old soak who wouldn't be missed. When something happened to the
-<i>Carefree</i>, the rest of the beached wrecks in Yakki would only shake
-their heads and agree that Pop had pushed the old bucket a few Gs too
-hard somewhere. That was just the end the wrecker had in mind for Pop
-when his job was finished, too.</p>
-
-<p>It was only reasonable. He couldn't let Pop live to tell the Guard that
-Ron Carnavon had had a hypnosurgical metamorphosis. Even a fortune in
-sapphires couldn't buy the High Space Guard. It was far too well-heeled
-with Holcomb Foundation money, and it took its duties to the
-inhabitants of the Earth-Mars-Venus Triangle seriously. A cautious man
-would realize this and take the proper steps. In this case the proper
-steps would be the elimination of Pop Wills when his job was done.</p>
-
-<p>But everyone makes mistakes. Carnavon made one when he selected Pop
-and the <i>Carefree</i>. With all the rusty hulks dotting the ramps of
-Yakki, and with all the even rustier skippers there, he should have
-hired someone else. Anyone else. Ron Carnavon should have connected
-Pop Wills with the twelve-year-old cabin boy of the <i>Thunderbird</i>. The
-youngster's name had been Wills, too. But of course, Carnavon couldn't
-have been expected to remember everything. Just coincidence&mdash;but those
-things do happen.</p>
-
-<p>So these two lifted from Mars together. A captain who had wrecked his
-own ship and a gin-soaked old man whose only son had died because
-of it. And neither knew the other for what he was. To Carnavon, Pop
-was just a fall-guy doing his job in proper sucker fashion. And to
-Pop Wills, Carnavon was just John Smith who wanted to go to Grid
-M332254-89OK off Triton and was willing to pay well for the privilege.</p>
-
-<p>The wrecker ordered the course and Pop set it. Mars began to dwindle
-and the Belt loomed up ahead. The <i>Carefree</i> threaded her way through
-the rocky maze and on past Saturn and Uranus in a free-falling arc. She
-was slow, but in space "slow" is a relative term. The Outer Planets
-were in triple conjunction and with their help, the old boat made time.
-Carnavon checked the course daily, and Pop accepted the corrections
-without protest. After all, John Smith was paying for the trip and he
-seemed to know what he was doing. No questions asked. Carnavon liked
-that. No questions, no trouble. He couldn't have been more wrong.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>It's hard to say in mere words what old Pop must have felt when he
-picked up the wreck of the <i>Thunderbird</i> on the radar. He recognized
-the image, of course. The <i>Thunderbird</i> was unique among spacers. Then
-he checked her position against the chart that Carnavon had marked and
-realized why they had come. He realized too who this John Smith was,
-and hate pulsed through him in sickening waves. Pop wasn't a brave man,
-and he was past his prime, but he could still hate.</p>
-
-<p>Almost without conscious thought, Pop broke out the Ultra-Wave and
-began calling the Guard. He broadcast full particulars, co-ordinates,
-descriptions, everything. He was at it when Carnavon found him and sent
-him crashing against the control panels with a smashing overhand right
-to the mouth.</p>
-
-<p>Pop sprawled on the metal decking and watched the wrecker carefully
-smash every communicating device on the ship's panel. There was a
-throbbing pain in his head where he had struck the shabbily padded
-control console, and the thick taste of blood was in his bruised mouth.
-He watched Carnavon like an animal, a hurt, impotently raging beast.
-And he began to be afraid. Even his hate couldn't spare him that, for
-Pop was afraid to die and he knew just what his chances were now.</p>
-
-<p>Carnavon, on the other hand, didn't waste time hating. He didn't know
-why Pop had called copper, and he didn't really care. Pop wasn't
-important. The sapphires in the <i>Thunderbird's</i> vault. <i>They</i> were
-important. He'd come too far to abandon them now.</p>
-
-<p>It would take nine minutes for Pop's radio appeal to reach the nearest
-Guard base, Carnavon calculated. And it would take six hours for
-the fastest Guard ship to reach them after that. He could board the
-<i>Thunderbird</i> and loot her in not more than two hours. That would
-still give the <i>Carefree</i> a four hour start on the Guard, and in deep
-space four hours were as good as four thousand. Carnavon still wasn't
-worried. The wrecking of the <i>Thunderbird</i> had been the work of months,
-and he wasn't going to panic now. Ron Carnavon wasn't that sort of a
-criminal.</p>
-
-<p>Blaster in hand, he motioned Pop to his feet. He wondered vaguely just
-why the old man had taken such a chance. He couldn't have any notions
-of collecting the reward for Carnavon. The amount was less than the
-amount he was getting for doing this&mdash;Carnavon smiled bleakly&mdash;salvage
-job. And the old man was a coward. He could see it in the trembling of
-the blue-veined hands, in the shifting faintness of the watery blue
-eyes. The wrecker shrugged aside the thoughts as unimportant and set to
-work.</p>
-
-<p>With a blaster in his ribs, Pop Wills did as he was told. He braked the
-<i>Carefree</i> to a stop twenty miles from the ruptured hulk of the liner.
-There were beads of sweat standing out on Pop's forehead and his hands
-shook on the firing console. A thin trickle of dark blood marred his
-stubbled chin. His battered lips were unsteady.</p>
-
-<p>For a few bad moments, Pop Wills thought Carnavon was going to blast
-him as soon as the <i>Carefree</i> lost way, but then even his gin-soaked
-mind began to understand that the end wasn't quite yet. Carnavon needed
-help looting the murdered liner. If he was going to lay his hands on
-her valuables before the Guard appeared, he'd have to get Pop working
-with him. Maybe if Pop had been more of a man he could have stopped
-the wrecker cold right there, but long years of boozing had left Pop
-weak. He could hate well enough, but fear conquers even hate. And that
-blaster that followed him in every movement made Pop's thin blood run
-cold. Life&mdash;even a life like Pop Wills'&mdash;was better than the black void
-of death. Pop was ready to buy a few more minutes of life at almost any
-price, even from the man who had killed his boy. The old man was like a
-rusty watch-spring&mdash;battered and wound to the utmost limit. And jammed
-there. Frozen by the reality of that ugly blaster and the cold eyes
-behind it, Pop would help Carnavon. He couldn't help himself. And his
-hate expanded to include his own senile weakness....</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>The <i>Thunderbird</i> spun slowly in the light of the faraway sun, the rent
-in her hull gaping like a mouthful of jagged teeth. She had been a
-beautiful thing once, but she was ugly now in death. She had not died
-gracefully. Her back had been broken and her innards scattered. She
-orbited sullenly, and around her spun the broken fragments of her inner
-body&mdash;the bloated, frozen corpses of the men she'd carried. Against the
-backdrop of the stars and the blaze of the Milky Way, she seemed to be
-a blot on the heavens. Pop Wills and Ron Carnavon watched her, each of
-them with his own thoughts. Then the wrecker motioned toward the suit
-lockers with his blaster.</p>
-
-<p>It took a bit of doing to get into his own pressure suit and still keep
-the blaster pointed at Wills, but Carnavon was a large man, and supple,
-and he managed it well enough.</p>
-
-<p>The <i>Carefree</i> had no escape boat, so there was nothing for it but to
-rely on the suit motors to take them across to the <i>Thunderbird</i>. It
-promised to be slow going, for the suit motors were weak and produced
-only one tenth G of thrust. Almost anything thrown out ahead by a man
-in a space-suit was enough to stop him cold. The recoil overcame the
-suit motor with ridiculous ease and though the motor labored mightily,
-it would take a long while to reestablish the original direction of
-movement. But Carnavon had an answer for that, too.</p>
-
-<p>A quick check of the radar showed that there were still no Guard ships
-within hailing distance. Carnavon's original estimate of the time it
-would take the Space Guard to arrive on the scene turned out to be
-surprisingly accurate.</p>
-
-<p>He connected his suit to Pop's with a short cable and snap-hooks and
-together they made their way to the <i>Carefree's</i> dorsal valve.</p>
-
-<p>Carnavon had no intention of sweating out a long, slow crossing to
-the hulk, so he ran the lock pressure up high and waited until the
-outer hatch was lined up with the derelict liner. Then with a sudden
-movement, he spun the wheel and popped the outer portal. Pop and
-Carnavon shot into space like grotesque <i>bolas</i>. The <i>Thunderbird</i>
-loomed up ahead.</p>
-
-<p>Pop kept his mouth shut and his eyes open. He saw more than an
-old man might be expected to see, too. For instance he saw that
-Carnavon&mdash;cautious though he might be&mdash;had neglected to take an extra
-magazine for his blaster. That meant that there were just three shots
-in the weapon. One of which, Pop figured, would be used against the
-vault of the scuttled liner. Not that the old man was making any plans.
-He was still too weighted by his fear and his sense of impotence for
-that. He merely noticed, and prayed to the gods of space that one of
-those shots in the blaster might not be meant for him.</p>
-
-<p>As they drew near the liner, Pop felt nausea churning his stomach.
-The ship was surrounded by satellites. Space-bloated bodies, naked
-and misshapen in the bitter light of the dim sun that reflected off
-the pitted flanks of the burst vessel. Spread-eagled grotesquely,
-the corpses circled their ship, puffy things of horror with staring
-eyes and extended fingers. Other things, too, circled the hulk.
-Small, commonplace items. A clock, a chair, shattered crockery. Tiny,
-inconsequential things, all mutely accusing&mdash;all muttering silently
-that their ship had been betrayed by someone who should have protected
-her.</p>
-
-<p>Pop glanced over at Carnavon. Through the steelglass bubble of his
-helmet he could see the wrecker's face. There was no expression on
-it other than concentration&mdash;and greed. Pop knew about greed. He'd
-lived with greed and degradation a lot in his last few years. He hated
-Carnavon even more now for having reminded him&mdash;but he was still too
-sick with futility to do more than tell himself that he had done all
-he could do. He <i>had</i> called the Guard, after all. And then, for an
-awful moment he found himself regretting that he had done even that and
-thereby lost all hope of life....</p>
-
-<p>Their magnetic shoes touched the <i>Thunderbird's</i> hull with a sound
-faintly carried through the air in their suits. They stood on the
-curving surface, etched in black against the starry sky. A few feet
-away from them, the terminator was inching toward them as the derelict
-rotated slowly.</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<p>With Carnavon leading the way, they clumped heavily to the ripped and
-tortured hull plates where the <i>Thunderbird</i> had been sundered. By the
-light of their helmet lights Pop could see the thoroughness of the
-wrecker's work. He had been her captain, this Carnavon, and he had
-known just how to murder her. The outer hull was a shambles and the
-pressure hull holed in three places. It had been a thorough job. Only
-one prepared for the sudden horror of her death could have survived it.
-Pop Wills thought of his boy and sobbed.</p>
-
-<p>The dark companionways were empty, blown clean by the violence of the
-<i>Thunderbird's</i> death. Ron Carnavon led the way down into the ship to
-the purser's office and the vault.</p>
-
-<p>Rubble cluttered the small room, bulkheads bent awry and pipes and
-wires littered the deck. Carnavon turned Pop loose and set him to
-work cleaning out a path to the vault. Pop's breath was coming in
-shuddering, grating gasps when he finished the work a half-hour later.
-Carnavon nodded approvingly and motioned him away from the vault.</p>
-
-<p>Pop watched while the wrecker braced himself and took careful aim at
-the vault's lock mechanism with the blaster. There was a searing flash
-of blue flame, and red sparks showered as the oxy-hydrogen bolt sliced
-into the steel of the door. Pop found himself praying fervently that it
-would take two more shots.</p>
-
-<p>Carnavon fired again, and the tiny room blazed. Pop muttered shakily
-under his breath and waiting for the wrecker to blast just once more.</p>
-
-<p>The lock surrendered in a trickle of white-hot slag and Pop felt
-himself sink low. There was still that one shot left for him&mdash;and he
-wasn't needed now.</p>
-
-<p>The door swung open and Carnavon knelt to rifle the vault. When he at
-last straightened, he held a pool of jagged blue fire in his gloved
-hand. The gems sparkled with a life of their own&mdash;two dozen faceted
-beauties&mdash;each worth a king's ransom&mdash;and each bought with a man's life.</p>
-
-<p>Presently they stood again on the outer hull, under an unreal canopy
-of stars. Nearby, a ghastly satellite was swinging inward toward the
-ship. Pop stared at it and back to Carnavon. He began to understand
-what the wrecker planned. He was going to leave him here&mdash;on the wreck.
-And he would die here. He understood that the shot that remained in the
-blaster wasn't for him after all. Carnavon wasn't going to waste it
-on him. There was a spanner in the wrecker's hand and he now advanced
-purposefully toward Pop Wills.</p>
-
-<p>Pop stepped backwards, retreating from the heavy figure of the wrecker.
-Fear was surging in waves through him&mdash;fear mixed with blind hate and
-contempt for himself and his senile weakness. Overhead, against the
-stars, the awful satellite drew nearer.</p>
-
-<p>Carnavon reduced the power in his magnetic shoes and moved lightly
-toward Pop, the spanner raised to strike. The old man stumbled against
-a long shard of steel on the hull that floated upward at his touch.
-Fear paralyzed him, and he stood now, waiting for the blow of the
-spanner that would smash his helmet and leave him a distended corpse
-spinning through space. Above him, the satellite spun inward.</p>
-
-<p>Pop glanced up&mdash;into the agonized, dead face of a twelve-year-old boy.
-He shrieked. The sound deafened him in the bubble of his helmet. All
-the fear and weakness turned to a bitter hate and surged forward in
-one insane motion toward his tormentor. The long shard of steel came
-to hand like a lance. The rusted, warped old watch spring that was Pop
-Wills recoiled and unwound in one raging moment. He charged Carnavon.</p>
-
-<p>Carnavon evaded the clumsy charge instinctively. With an almost
-unconscious motion, he raised the blaster and fired point-blank.</p>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<div class="figcenter">
- <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/>
-</div>
-
-<hr class="chap" />
-
-<p>The searing bolt caught Pop Wills in the chest and spun him around,
-tattered ribbons of charred flesh and melted metal from his suit
-intermingled. He curled inward upon himself in an awkward graceless
-fashion and sank to the hull plates, a nimbus of ice flowing from the
-gap in his suit as the water-vapor and blood spurted into the vacuum.
-But there was something strangely like a smile on his face as life left
-him. Pop had conquered his fear at last.</p>
-
-<p>But Carnavon, on the other end of the bolt of fire that had ended Pop
-Wills' life, spun outward&mdash;away from the <i>Thunderbird</i>, away from the
-<i>Carefree</i>, end over end, driven by the fiery recoil of his own weapon.
-At a speed considerably less than the muzzle-velocity of the blast, but
-still much higher than the best speed of the feeble suit motor, Ron
-Carnavon spun into space. Out and away, the precious sapphires spilling
-out of his hand, glittering in the faint sunlight as they took up their
-orbits about him like tiny, mocking moonlets....</p>
-
-<hr class="tb" />
-
-<div class="blockquot">
-<p>UWR MESSAGE PRIORITY AA HIGH SPACE GUARD CORVETTE M-233 TO EMV BASE
-ONE OBERON STOP IN RESPONSE TO ALARM BROADCAST BY RS CAREFREE COMMA
-THIS VESSEL PROCEEDED TO GRID M332254-89OK COMMA LOCATED THERE
-MISSING RS THUNDERBIRD STOP RADAR SEARCH LOCATED MISSING CAPTAIN RON
-CARNAVON WANTED FOR MURDER AND BARRATRY STOP CARNAVON UNACCOUNTABLY
-FOUND AT CONSIDERABLE DISTANCE FROM VESSEL DEAD OF ASPHYXIATION DUE
-TO EXHAUSTION OF PRESSURE SUIT SUPPLIES STOP CASE MAY BE CONSIDERED
-CLOSED STOP END MESSAGE</p>
-
-<p class="ph1">QUINBY CORVETTE M-233<br />
-COMMANDER HSG</p></div>
-
-<pre style='margin-top:6em'>
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-</pre>
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