CHAPTER VI
"Introducing Larkspur O'Day...."
In exactly three days, one hour and forty-five minutes Solar Constant time, theLibertydropped to a perfect landing in a cradle on the rocketdrome of Sun City, seat of the Venusian planetary government.
As Warren had foretold, their arrival was unchallenged by any ship of the SSP fleet. Sole occupants of the rocketdrome's cradles were lumbering freighters and sleek merchantmen emblazoned with the emblem of Earth's merchant marine.
But if their arrival was unchallenged it was not unexpected. A host of ebony-skinned Venusians gathered about their ship instantly. As soon as their party emerged from the lock, a delegation moved forward to greet them. With but a few words of preamble they were whisked away to the Venusian Council Hall. There, serving as spokesman for the group, Gary Lane launched earnestly upon an explanation of the mission which had brought them hither.
It was a strikingly different group of beings whom Gary now spoke to than those to whom he had addressed his plea on Earth three short days ago. The Venusians were human. Upon his conquest of space, man had discovered—somewhat to his surprise and more than a little to the chagrin of the ethnologists who had predicted otherwise—that nowhere (in the solar galaxy at least) had risen to planetary supremacy any race of creatures other than that represented byHomo sapiens.
But where on Earth of the Twenty-third century white, or Caucasian, man was the acknowledged cultural leader of his planet, here on Venus the situation was reversed. The planetary overlords were dark-skinned men of magnificent figure and intellect. The planet embraced only a minority of the white and yellow-skinned races. And these, when found, were for the most part centuries deeper in barbarism and savagery than were the negroid rulers of the planet.
To the bafflement of science, laboratory research had proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that these Venusians bore a fundamental kinship with the dark-skinned races of Earth. Blood plasma, hair structure, and other physiological phenomena proved Earth's dark children were more nearly related to the Venusians than to their own terrestrial brethren.
All this Gary Lane had known in advance. So it was with no surprise he addressed himself to the Venusian court. He did, however, despite the intensity of his purpose, in some dim recess of his mind find time to marvel that the racial characteristics of the colored men, sometimes mildly amusing at home, were here lifted and dignified by universal usage to a station of high importance.
The great vaulted Council chamber, with its curving spires and gaudily tinted walls; the bright colored raiment, the elaborate equipage and formality with which the Venusians embellished their pomp, on Earth might have exacted derision. Here they seemed the normal, the true and graceful and cultured thing.
And if there was a certain childlike love of color and circumstances in the Venusian heart, it was no juvenile attention the Venusian overlords turned upon Lane's words. They listened carefully and thoughtfully to what he had to say, then conferred briefly amongst themselves. Finally their Chief Councillor turned to him.
"Your story is fantastic, but there is a certain ominous ring of truth in its telling. Still we do not quite understand. Why have you come to Venus? What would you have of us?"
"One of the four things," answered Gary, "requisite to our escaping our own solar galaxy that we may seek the cause which threatens to bring about our doom. We need from you—fuel. Sufficient stores of preciousneurotrope, which only your planet produces. It is the only fuel with great enough power in small enough quantity to serve our purposes."
"And how much," asked the Venusian spokesman, "of this fuel would you need?"
"A minimum of five thousand tons."
"Five thousand tons!"
The noblemen murmured amongst themselves restlessly. Their leader bent a shrewd, hard glance upon Gary.
"That is much fuel, Earthman."
"We have far to go," replied Gary. "From here to Mars ... from Mars to Jupiter ... then outward, beyond this universe itself. Five thousand tons ofneurotropeis barely enough for our needs."
"It isalsoenough," reminded the other, "to fuel the whole of your Earth fleet for a trip to Venus."
"Yes," acknowledged Gary, "I suppose that's true. But this is a relatively short trip, whereas—" Then he stopped suddenly, the implication of the other's words striking him. "But surely you can't think—!"
"Our relationship with your planet," said the Chief Councillor slowly, "has not always been ... pleasant. We have small reason to place great faith in your words and promises; none whatsoever to turn over to you a supply of the only important military weapon we possess. Unless, of course—"
Gary grasped the straw eagerly. "Yes?"
"Unless you would be willing to show your good faith by disclosing to us, in return, an Earthly secret vital to our defense."
"But," faltered Gary, "I know no such secret."
"I think you do. You came here in a spacecraft. It contains the secret we want. The knowledge of the hypatomic motor which drives it."
Gary's heart sank. He turned to Hugh Warren.
"Tell them, Hugh, what you told us on the trip here."
Warren did so. The councillors were courteous but unmoved. Their chief merely shrugged as he made reply.
"The situation is even worse than I thought. Earth's government is so jealous of its military secrets that it does not entrust them even to the Patrolmen who fight in its cause. No, gentlemen, I am afraid—"
It was the girl, Nora Powell, who interrupted him.
"But, Excellency," she cried, springing forward, "you can'tdothis! You can't risk the very existence of a dozen worlds for the sake of a selfish principle. You can't turn us away like this. Don't you realize what these men have dared already? Disgrace and death at the hands of their compatriots, unless our mission succeeds. We are exiles, fugitives from Earth, fighting alone and single-handed to protect Earth and all Sol's other children from—"
The councillor said, "Yes, we have heard the news by ultrawave radio of your—er—melodramatic escape from Earth. Surely, my dear young lady, you do not think we are taken in by such a ruse? It is an exquisitely imaginative tale. But we find it scarcely credible that five learnéd scientists and a crew of Solar Patrolmen should 'steal' a ship against the will of Earth's government.
"It is more likely—muchmore likely—that your world, in order to gain a sufficient supply of our vital fuel, has planned this little drama."
"Why," burst out Flick Muldoon indignantly, "that's nonsense! Begging your pardon, Excellency, but that idea's as crazy as hell! We did this on our own hook in order to—"
But Gary stopped him before the irate cameraman's outspoken indignation should only worsen their plight. He asked quietly, "That is your final and considered decision?"
The councillor nodded for himself and his associates.
"It is. When you return to Earth you may tell your government we of Venus are not fools. And now, farewell."
He nodded to a retinue of guards. Short minutes later the dejected little group was being led back toward the spaceport.
For the most part they were silent, each lost in the overwhelming sadness of his own thoughts. Only one spoke, and he in a mutter. That one was Flick Muldoon.
"Not fools, eh? I wonder if he'd like to make book on that...."
"So," said Hugh Warren, "that seems to be that. What do we do now, Gary? Give up?"
Gary said, "I don't knowwhatto do, Hugh."
"I am afraid," sighed Dr. Anjers, "our mission is a failure. Perhaps it were best we go back to Earth and throw ourselves on the clemency of the World Council."
"You maybe," said the skipper of theLibertyruefully, "but not me. I'm in it too deep. Well, Gary, better make up your mind."
"We go on," decided Lane suddenly. "That's all wecando. Swallow this failure and go on to Mars. Perhaps there our plea will meet with more success."
"But," demurred Dr. Bryant, "if we lack sufficient fuel—"
"We must find some substitute," said Gary. But even as he said it, he knew he was guilty of wishful thinking. There was no substitute forneurotrope. There were many fuels capable of adaptation to the explosion chamber of hypatomic motors, but none compact enough and powerful enough to make possible the long, sustained flight which lay before them.
Warren said, "You're the doctor," and turned to the control studs, setting the stops for the next leg of their journey, that which must carry them 200,000,000 miles through space to the crimson, arid comet of Mars.
As he depressed the proper button, lights flashed and relays clicked. Small bells jangled in the bowels of the ship, setting unseen engineers and crewmen to the fulfillment of their tasks.
Skipper Warren smiled drearily, "Well, at any rate," he said, "we have the satisfaction of knowing that fuel or no fuel, we have under us the smoothest little ship in space. Mile for mile it will give us more speed per pound of fuel than any other ship—"
He stopped suddenly, lurching and grasping for support, startled into silence as the deck beneath him bucked and quivered violently. Someone shouted. Nora screamed a little scream of dismay. Only by grasping an upright of the control turret did Gary Lane keep himself from tumbling bruisingly across the room. Flick Muldoon, victim of an unexpectedly violent threepoint landing, glared up irately from the floor.
"Smoothest little ship in space, eh? It's sure acting like it now."
But Captain Hugh Warren's face had suddenly drained of color. Now his hands smashed open the ship's intercommunicating system, and he bawled, "We're caught in an enemy tractor beam! All hands at battle stations! Stand by to repel boarders!"
But overlapping his command came that of a second voice, one crisp and cool and pleasantly amused,
"I shouldn't if I were you, Captain. You see, we're already alongside, with our guns trained on you. It would be wiser to bow to the inevitable."
"But what ... who...?" gasped Dr. Bryant.
Hugh Warren turned from his controls with a shrug of resignation, and in a voice of gathering despair, "Troubles," he said, "never come singly. Now it's pirates."
Minutes later he was proven correct. There came the grating clamor of spacecraft in embrace, the hiss of opening airlocks, and into theLibertystrode a band of Earthmen, bulger-clad and armed to the teeth.
With the swift efficiency of long practice, these men dispersed throughout the ship to accomplish their marauding aims. Only their leader and a lieutenant refrained from piratical activity. These came to the bridge of theLiberty, and there with an ease and calmness Gary Lane found amazing under the circumstances, addressed themselves to the skipper of the invaded vessel.
"Greetings, Captain. No hard feelings, I hope? If you'll just toss your sidearms over into the corner—There, that's better. No reason we shouldn't enjoy a pleasant little chat until my men have completed their mission."
"Mission?" grated Warren savagely. "What mission? Damn your rascally hide, we're no merchantman. This is a cruiser of the Solar Space Patrol."
The corsair chieftain chuckled pleasantly.
"Why, yes, Captain. So we noticed. That's our mission. I thought it would be a good joke to stop you—just to see if we could, you know. And as a matter of proof, in case anyone should ever contest our claim, I've asked my men to remove the insignia from the uniforms of each of your crew. Sorry to seem impolite, Captain, but if you wouldn't mind tossing me your epaulettes ... just as a little souvenir, you know—"
Hugh Warren's face, which had been apoplectic with rage, now froze in slack-jawed wonder.
"J-joke!" he stammered. "Just to see if you could? Souvenir! There's only one pirate in space crazy enough to do a thing like this. You must be—"
The marauder smiled amiably. "Well, now," he drawled, "that's right flattering of you, Captain. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is O'Day. Larkspur O'Day."