by Earl
The financier scurried back like a frightened rabbit. But he turned, screeching. “I’ll get the ice-trade!” he threatened. “It’s the biggest thing in the history of interplanetary trade, and I’ll get it, one way or another!” With that he loped over the red sands of Mars, toward his luxurious space-yacht, like a wolf on the trail.
Drummond stared after him, and something stood out starkly clear in his mind. So clear and bright that it seemed to burn his brain. This was the biggest thing in interplanetary trade. All other trades in ores, jewels, exotic drugs and food-products paled into utter insignificance. The moment it slipped into the wrong hands, the water-trade between two worlds would become a pool of iniquity.
THE code of trade was ruthless. Drummond flushed, thinking of some black blots in the history of interplanetary commerce, which were comparable, in degree if not manner, with the freebooting days of piracy on the high-seas of Earth—the slave trade, barter with worthless trinkets, exploitation of the New World, and the gold-seeking of the Spanish Conquistadores. These were the raw, semi-lawless days of interplanetary expansion, as those had been the raw days of world expansion.
Drummond swung around.
“Jolar-Ty, do you trust me?”
The Martian nodded quickly.
“We Martians read character at a glance. Dr. Baird I already know as a humanitarian. And I trust you, Captain Drummond!”
Drummond almost panted. “Then promise me that I am to have the sole right of selling water on Mars!”
Without hesitation, Jolar-Ty took the contract from his hands, drew an Earth-made fountain pen from the folds of his robe, and scratched the words indelibly on the paper.
“What do you mean to do?” whispered Dr. Baird.
Drummond’s eyes shot fire.
“Build up the water-trade ourselves! With whatever capital Jolar-Ty can supply, in radium. We’ll buy a fleet of space-tugs. We’ll deliver water to Mars at a cost plus one per cent. One per cent will pay off our debts in a year. After that, delivery without profit. In other words, Baird, we’ll be working for the Martians!”
He stared off at the tiny lake of Earth water, now almost gone into the greedy sands and sucking air.
“It’s the only way,” he said, firmly. “It’ll be a gigantic project. It will take years and years. But we can deliver it as fast as Stone or any one else could. And the Martians won’t be skinned in the process, and left high and dry—literally—when their radium runs out. This, Dr. Baird, is going to be our life-work!”
“I knew you would come around to this,” the scientist said quietly. “I knew I hadn’t misjudged you.” He smiled, through tears. The joy was upon him of a man whose dream had come true.
Jolar-Ty waved again to his people, and their voices lifted once more in their haunting Song of Praise.
Captain Keith Drummond brushed at his eyes, grumbling that there was a lot of free dust in the Martian air.
“Just a business matter!” Dr. Baird hummed softly to himself.
The two statues of shining white stone still stand in Canal City. There is talk now of taking them away, replacing them with two new statues, this time of imperishable metal. For the smiles on the faces of both Earthmen represented by the two statues have vanished. You see, the Martian rains have eroded them!
MYSTERY WORLD
Tom Blaine, Interplanetary Taxi-Driver, Knew All the Answers—But Landing on a Strange Sphere, He Asked the Questions!
What’s the Name of the World?
“Mystery World”—the locale of this story—is one of the 37 astronomical bodies listed below. From the clues presented in Eando Binder’s story, can you guess the mystery world’s identity?
Turn to page 126 for the correct solution after you have completed reading the story.—Editor.
PLANETS
SATELLITES
Earth
Luna
Mercury
Mars
Deimos
Phobos
Venus
Jupiter
Io
Europa
Ganymede
Callisto
Satellite V
Satellite VI
Satellite VII
Satellite VIII
Satellite IX
Satellite X
Satellite XI
Uranus
Ariel
Umbriel
Titania
Oberon
Neptune
Triton
Pluto
Saturn
Mimas
Enceladus
Tethys
Dione
Rhea
Titan
Hyperion
Iapetus
Phoebe
THE Orion Club on Asteroid 444 was just letting out after one of its floor shows. “Taxi? Taxi?” I called out in my most persuasive tones.
Business had been dull around the hotel and theater asteroids, so I had parked here, hoping for a long fare. Maybe even a hop to Mars.
“Taxi? Ta—Hey, you bum—”
One of the Spectrum Cabs was trying to squeeze in behind me, in the parking lane. Think they’re smart, those hackies, with their red-orange-yellow-green-blue-violet striped buggies. He rammed in, denting my rocket-tube bumper-guard at the back.
I ran to his window.
“Listen here, Rainbow Man,” I growled, “for two Martian zans I’d wrap a jet-tube around your fat neck!”
“You and what interstellar armada?” he sneered back.
Some of those guys use the corniest slang. College man, eh?
“Step out and say that,” I invited. “I’ll hit you so hard it’ll take you ten light-years to crawl back.”
I ain’t so dumb, either.
He started opening his door. I might have lit into him, with another crack or my fist, except that suddenly a gorgeous blonde stepped from the Orion Club. She headed straight for our two cabs.
“Taxi?” I said, swinging my hatch-door in Smart-mouth’s face. The blonde stepped in my chariot with a bored nod. Over my shoulder I threw at the hackie: “Hit the Milky Way, ya space-bum.”
Guess that took the momentum out of his jets.
But I forgot about that, and turned to my fare, after sliding in to the driving seat. I blinked. It was like looking at the Sun from Mercury. Talk about your Venusian beauties! This Earth-girl had them all beat a light-year. She had class. And clothes, and jewels.
“Where to, princess?” I queried.
“Oh, anywhere. I don’t care where,” she returned, just like that.
“Uh—” I grunted. “You mean—anywhere? But, lady, you’ve got to have a destination!”
“Well, I haven’t,” she snapped back. “I’m utterly bored. Just take me out in space somewhere. There won’t be any vacuum-headed boobs out there, anyway.”
I scratched my head and stepped on the starter. The motor coughed, but started. I’ll have to have that carburetor looked at some time. There was always something wrong with my crate. That’s what you get for buying a used space-car. I shifted into first.
But something else happened, as though I already hadn’t had enough happen to me for one day. The hatch-door jerked open and a man jumped in.
“Sorry, mister,” I said. “I got a fare. Cab right in back of me.”
So what if I did give Brainy-mouth a break? We all have to make a living. Things are pretty tough these days, what with the Martian cabbies cutting our throats in a bargain-fare war.
But the newcomer didn’t seem to hear. He was a tall, dark, lean bird, with a mean glint in his eye, dressed in evening clothes. He plumped himself down next to the blonde, squinted at her, and then glanced nervously out of the cab window.
“I said—” I began again.
“I know,” he interrupted in a nasty tone. “You have a fare—me! Get going, fast!”
“Why, you tramp!” I yelled. “Who you giving orders to, even if you are wearing tails? This is a free Universe. Get out or—”
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THEN I gulped and said, “Pardon me.” I was looking down the barrel of a spark-gun. The blonde gasped, shrinking away. The guy poked me in the ribs.
“Take the nearest exit to space,” he ordered. “Or you’ll be exiting into the ether.”
I didn’t waste any more time. I had once seen a man with half his skin burned away by a spark-gun. I let out the clutch and rolled into the speed lane. Gunning the rockets, I took the take-off tube in second. Some hacks take it in third. But that’s tough on the motor, fighting surface gravity.
A minute later we shot past the photo-electric locks into space. I shifted into third, zooming out fast. Below us, the big-sealed quartz dome of Asteroid 444 got smaller until it was just a light. Then it winked out, as the miles ripped by.
Now I had a chance to begin wondering what was going on. What did the gunman want? The girl? Or had he robbed the Orion Club and was using me to help make his getaway?
I got my voice back and turned toward the back seat.
“Listen here, what’s this all about? You know this girl?”
“No, but I’d like to,” the guy answered silkily. But then he said: “Don’t worry, sister. I’m not interested in you. I’ve got something more important to do.”
He looked at me. It was a hard look.
“What’s your name?”
“Blaine. Tom Blaine. Thomas, to you.” I was sort of over my first shakes. No bum can scare me more than a minute, even with a spark-gun.
“Okay,” he said. “Now listen, Blaine. I’m Bart Warren. I have to make a little trip. I won’t tell you where, and I can’t let you off anywhere. Can’t take a chance, now. How much fuel in your tanks?”
My blood boiled all of a sudden. No tramp was going to burn up my fuel, and take my cab where I didn’t want to go. I leaped at him. He wasn’t holding the gun straight at me.
I jumped right in his lap, from the front seat, and clipped him on the chin. I would have got him except that I forgot to brace myself. The blow wasn’t solid because we were in free space without gravity or weight. We didn’t have any equalizers. It didn’t knock him out, only dazed him for a second.
I grabbed for his wrist, wrenched it. He jammed his elbow against my Adam’s apple, and shoved my head back. I gagged for air.
“Pull his arm—” I managed to gurgle at the girl.
But she didn’t do a thing. She just sat there motionless in her corner, as though she were held down by Jupiter’s gravity.
That was all I had time to think about then. Warren got his wrist free and raised the gun. His arm came down. My head cracked open. I went out like an eclipse.
WHEN I came to, the first thing I saw was the blonde. But from a queer angle. I was lying down in the back of the cab. When I tried to move, I cursed. I was tied hand and foot. Warren had ripped off the seat-linings for cord.
I could see his head over the front seat, watching the instrument panel. I gave a groan, hearing the rear rockets drumming. He was tearing the heart out of the motor. I was groaning over my head, too, which felt like a balloon. The girl looked down at me.
“Well?” her eyes said. They were sky-blue eyes, like the kind of sky you see on Earth in the summer.
I held up my tied hands, hoping she’d oblige. But she held up her own hands, also tied. The devil take that Warren! We couldn’t do a thing. I strained to get loose, though, just in case. Warren’s head turned at the noise. “Quiet back there!” he snapped. “You can’t get loose. Take it easy. Just a few more hours yet.”
“How long was I out?” I demanded. “Never mind,” Warren grunted.
The girl had a wrist-watch, but she shook her head.
“Forgot to wind it last night,” she explained.
I glanced at the cab’s roof-clock, but Warren had stopped it. For his own reasons, he didn’t want us to know how long the trip was taking. I couldn’t even guess at the time. Out in space, hours seem like days—or seconds. Depends.
What crazy kind of business was this? Why all the secrecy on Warren’s part? Were we going toward the Sun—toward Mars, Earth, Venus, or Mercury? Or away from the Sun—toward Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune or Pluto? I discounted Pluto. It was the one planet you couldn’t get to in less than days. Warren had said “just a few hours.”
When Warren shifted to deceleration, after a while, I was still in the dark. We were halfway to some planet. But which one?
I gave up trying to figure it out, with no sense of time to go by, and no direct view out of the windows. I looked at the girl. She was a mystery too, pretty or not!
“Sorry you’re in this,” I remarked finally, to open up a conversation and pass time. “Your folks, or husband, will worry about you, Miss—uh—” I didn’t even know her name.
“Bronson,” she supplied. “Della Bronson. I suppose they will worry—the folks, not a husband. But I don’t care. I rather enjoy this!”
AND darned if her eyes didn’t sparkle a little, making her prettier than ever. She looked more alive that way. I had a chance to give her a real once-over. Her fancy gown was iridescent, changing from blue to red to green. Must be pure Uranian silque, at a dollar an inch. Jewelry, too—tiara, necklace, bracelets, and corsage-holder. All flashy and expensive.
Society debutante, I sized her up. Millions in the family. Palatial estate on some asteroid. But bored as the devil by her life. Rounds of parties, balls, space-yacht shindigs. Fortune-hunters after her. Wanted to get away from it all.
“You got spunk,” I said. “Some girls would be weeping their eyes out.” I’m impulsive at times. So I took a chance.
“Your eyes are too pretty for that, anyhow,” I added.
You should have seen her freeze up at that! She didn’t have to say what she thought. It was written over her face, all snooty and how-dare-you? I was just a lug, in her eyes. A common hack, bawling on street corners for fares. I wasn’t fit to touch the ground she walked on!
“Okay, sister,” I snapped. “If that’s the way you want it. Thought you’d like to have a friend in this. When we get back from this, I’m charging you full fare. You got in this cab first!”
Business is business. She glared at me, her eyes as cold as the diamonds she wore. But I didn’t like the way Warren leered at me over his shoulder suddenly. When or if we got back from this!
WARREN landed the ship, at last.
Made a pretty smooth landing for an amateur pilot. He untied the girl’s hands. She rubbed her wrists.
“Now untie Blaine, Sally,” he ordered, while he kept me covered.
“Don’t call me Sally!” the girl flared, tilting her nose into the stratosphere. “Miss Bronson is the name.”
“Sally,” repeated Warren, grinning at his humor. The girl took it out on me, roughly loosing my bonds and wrenching the cords over my half-raw skin. Warren valved air out of the ship, slowly, until our breathing became adjusted to an atmosphere at least as thin as Mars.
“I have business to do here,” Warren told us, when we stepped out on whatever land it was. “No need keeping you tied up. But you can’t leave. I’ve got the ignition key, Blaine. Also the duplicate that was in your wallet. I looked the ship over while you were unconscious. You have no guns. If you’re hungry, help yourself to the emergency rations and water. I’m taking a few cans along myself, in case it takes me a while to find what I want.”
“What’re you after?” I asked point-blank. “Where are we?”
“Figure it out for yourself, smart guy,” he said. “If you can!”
I watched him walk away without saying anything, but inside I was seething like Jupiter’s Red Spot. So he thought I was a dumbbell, did he? Just a common cabby who wouldn’t know Mars from Neptune except by following the regular space routes. Well, I’d show him!
I squinted around. One look at the Sun and I could tell, by its size, just how far away it was. It was dawn here. The Sun was just coming up. It popped over some low hills like a big red moon. I couldn’t tell by the plain scenery where we were. M
ost planets look pretty much alike, in a general way.
“See that Sun?” I said to the girl. “It’s big. Bigger than on Earth. That means we’re either on Mercury or Venus! Simple, isn’t it? And he thought I’d be stumped!”
I turned to Della Bronson. Her eyes were puzzled. Being a society doll, she wouldn’t know astronomy from beans.
“You see,” I explained, “Mercury and Venus have tracks closer to the sun. Orbits, you know. So the Sun would appear larger.”
Even she must see that. But her eyes were still puzzled, as she squinted at the Sun, then around at the horizon. Good Lord, did those dames come that dumb?
“But is that Sun larger?” she said. “Suppose this is a small body. The horizon would be foreshortened. The Sun would seem larger, simply by false comparison.”
I gagged.
She almost smiled at me.
“Sorry to disrupt your pretty little theory, Mr. Blaine. But even you can see there is no standard basis for comparison. Am I right?”
“Right,” I said in a kind of small voice, looking at the Sun again. Now it seemed small! It’s like one of those optical illusions, where things seem to switch back and forth. First it seemed the Sun was large. Then my mind would make a little jump and the Sun would seem small.
SHE was right, all right. The horizon was either small, or the Sun was actually big. No proof either way. It was the first time I’d been dumped on a planet without knowing which one. When you’re told it’s Venus, you know the Sun’s larger than on Earth. When you aren’t told, it’s a toss-up.
