by Don Wilcox
Millrock carried an arm in a sling during the remainder of the visit with the Mogos.
It wasn’t easily explained. Late that night, Captain Keller prodded him with sharp questions for an hour. The stubborn Millrock wasn’t good at answering.
“Did the giant attack you?”
“Would I be here if he did? What chance have I got against a giant? It was your Looey that busted me up.”
“He says you began fighting him. Said you were sore because he chased off the giant with the danger signal.”
“Let’s just say I was scared. Let’s say I didn’t know what I was doing.”
In their private corner the captain told Hurley they would talk it over later; meanwhile, the less the party knew about it the better. Above all, it shouldn’t leak out to the Mogos.
“I get it,” Big Boy said. “We’re here on a good will tour, and we shouldn’t spend our time beating each other up. But what about the giant he was talking with?”
“Are you sure there was a giant?”
“I’m sure,” Hurley said. “He was off like a shot. That warning—”
“The Mogo prisons are no joke, they say. But a giant gets one warning.”
CHAPTER VII
A few hours before the departure for the Earth. Captain Keller talked with George again.
“You know what I’ve been saying to you all along. Hurley.”
Big Boy nodded. For months Keller had been bearing down on him at every opportunity, reminding him that big things would be expected of him by the people of the New Earth. His heroism of the past pointed to more than being a good space pilot—the role he filled so comfortably. He must look forward to taking on his share of leadership.
“Really, Captain, I still don’t think I’m cut out to be a politician.”
“I’m not suggesting the impossible,” Keller said, “but you and I both need to use our good wits. We have some of the same weaknesses, you and I. We tend to be too soft—to let the other fellow take the advantage. If we always give our enemies the benefit of the doubt, we may make saps of ourselves.”
“I shoulda hit Millrock harder.”
“I didn’t mean that. But I’m confiding something to you about Millrock. I know he’s phony. I don’t have him figured out, but I’m asking you to help me keep an eye on him.”
“I still can’t figure why he’d pick a fight.”
“I think I know,” Keller said. “He wanted to take your attention off of something he didn’t want you to see.”
“Such as?”
“The door to the hold. It was left open. You broke up his game before he had a chance to close it.”
“You mean he was stealing something?”
“Two barrels were missing.”
“Barrels!”
“Do you remember something Gret-O-Gret was very fond of when he visited the Earth?”
“You mean chocolate?”
“Just a little strategy of mine,” the captain said with a smile. “I brought several barrels of chocolate syrup along as a gift for Gret-O-Gret.” Hurley gulped and grinned. “Well I’ll be! What an idea!”
“Just enough for a Mogo taste, of course. Still. I thought it might be enough to whet Gret’s appetite and remind him how much we could make him enjoy a visit to the Earth. I’ve given him all the barrels that were left. Who knows, it may work!”
“Captain, you’re a genius. But those two barrels. You mean that Millrock—”
“I’m not sure just how it happened,” Captain Keller said, “but the night we returned from the show I found you working on Mill rock’s broken arm. And I also found the door open to our supplies. Millrock must have rolled out a couple of barrels for the Mogo prowler while you were watching the show—though what his game was, I can’t figure.”
“He had to be a fast worker.”
“He talks Mogo as well as any of us. Frankly, I’m relieved that we’re getting away without an incident. One bit of treachery on his part could ha je spoiled the whole good will tour—but as I say, I don’t know what he had in mind. We may not have seen the end of it. Help me keep watch on him, Hurley.”
This advice was in the top of George’s mind as the ship zoomed off into the skies. The gala farewell of the Mogos was real proof of intergalaxy friendship; nevertheless Hurley also breathed a sigh of relief. They were in the open skies again!
In the open skies! Crashing through universes of emptiness! On their way back to the familiar realm of solar planets!
Would the great Mogo leader Gret-O-Gret follow them soon? Would the invitation for an Earth visit be accepted in due time? Gret-O-Gret. busy with affairs of state, had come to no decision. Time would tell.
The hours of space travel were counted off. Good fellowship was maintained. Even Millrock pretended to offer Hurley friendship, swaggering up with an air of confidence.
“I’ve been meaning to say something, Lieutenant. About that night.”
“Well?”
“Damned awkward of me, bumping into you with my fists. I hope you’ll forget it.”
Hurley glanced at the fellow’s bandaged arm. “Okay, let’s say we forget it. But I still can’t figure you.”
“Just scared of the damn Mogos, that’s all. You know, a guy gets nervous.” Millrock’s thickset muscles relaxed a trifle. With a wide sweep of his good arm he slapped a coin on the table. “Name it, pal.”
“Easy on those half dollars, George said. “You know my wife’s picture—”
“Sure, I know.” Millrock flipped the coin into the air, caught it, held it up and winked at it. “Here’s a wink for your lady. She brings me luck.”
He put the coin to his lips. George flipped the back of his hand and batted the half dollar across the room. Millrock stared.
“Say, you get sore easy, don’t you!” He started to pick the coin up, then changed his mind as he looked back at Hurley. “Now you wouldn’t hit a man with a broken arm, would you?”
Hurley didn’t answer. Millrock left the half dollar on the floor and walked off to another part of the ship.
CHAPTER VIII
The eight-gun greeting which the New Earth gave to Captain Keller and his party on their safe arrival echoed to many corners of the Solar System. Radio listeners on the neighboring planets were interested to
know that the good will party had returned safely. Whether friendly or otherwise, interplanetary politicians and statesmen could well afford to listen to the broadcast of cheering crowds and blaring bands playing that New Earth song hit, We’ve Got a Great Big Brother in Mogo Land.
On the planet Venus, Madam Zukor, dressed in a red silken gown with a cape of white wingman feathers, listened intently to the program.
Madam Zukor was a native of the Earth—the Old Earth. The New Earth had not welcomed her. She had barely escaped with her life after she and her infamous brother, the late Garritt Glasgow, had tried in vain to seize the planet.
Poppendorf, the man who sat beside her at the radio, was likewise an Earth native, who had also made an outcast of himself, and could consider himself lucky to have escaped alive.
“They’re dedicating a building,” Poppendorf said. “It’s their number-one skyscraper, twelve stories tall. They’ve saved the dedication for Captain Keller’s return. they call it the Mogo Tower . . . Now, they’ve got Captain Keller making a speech.”
“Wouldn’t you know it!” Madam Zukor stamped her cigaret into the tray. She rose and began to pace. She moved with her best queenly air, trying as always to imagine the person she would have been if the breaks had gone the other way. Yet her mannerisms were tinged with the defeat and the disillusionment that had followed her earlier personal war with the forces of Captain Keller.
She lighted another cigaret. She sniffed as the radio brought in the speech of Captain Keller. Her queenly demeanor could easily give way to a pout.
“More than ever we are sure the Mogos are our friends,” the captain was saying. “What happened once could never possibly happen,
a rain. The bond of understanding has been sealed.
Madam Zukor stopped before the full length mirror. Why wasn’t she making that speech instead of Captain Keller? Why hadn’t she been lucky enough to win that bond of friendship?
“Listen. They’re about to read the inscription on the tower,” her male companion said.
“Can’t you see I’m busy? I’m thinking . . .” She trailed off into her private vision. She was a queen, an empress—yes, a dictatorial ruler. The Earth would rebuild over the coming centuries, and it would record in its history that Madam Zukor was the one who seized it, after the tragic destruction, and started it on the way to a new place among the planets.
How would she accomplish her purpose? How? How? Sleepless nights had been devoted to all manner of schemes.
Now the radio narrator described the building as the dedication took place . . . A graceful building, a tower of strength . . . A gleaming metal figure adorning the entrances, three stories tall, a representation of Gret-O-Gret . . . an expression of good will . . . arms extended down the length of the arched entrances . . . palms open in an attitude of peace . . .
They were reading the inscription: “To the everlasting friendship between the good giants of Mogo and . . .”
“Listen to that,” Poppendorf bellowed. “Not to all the giants, but to the good giants—”
“Well, what of it?”
“It’s a friendship with reservations. Who’s going to be friends with the bad giants?”
“Who do you suggest?
“You.”
“Oh, blast you!”
“Well, why not? If they’ve got a few hellish giants like Mox-O-Mox on tap, why don’t you get busy and sign up one?”
“They’d be too hard to handle, that’s why. Any more bright ideas?”
“It was just a thought.”
Adam Zukor snorted. Then with an explosion of impatience she said, “I wish to hell they’d say whether Millrock got back safe. Why don’t they read the names of the party?
“Here it comes. Listen. Captain Keller and his brave men—”
The narrator repeated the names over the radio, as they had been given when the ship arrived. The name of
Millrock was joined with the comment, “Millrock, the linguist, seems to have vanished temporarily. There are only seven men in the group, but we assure you that all eight returned safely.”
“Oh, fine!” Madam Zukor said sarcastically. “What finesse! He’s gone and got himself lost. I told him to stay inconspicuous. Damn fool! I told him—”
“You told him to report by radiogram the minute he got back safely,” Poppendorf reminded her, looking up from the radio.
Don’t stick your iron jaw out at me. I should have sent you. You’d do everything just right, I’m sure.”
“I’d have gone if you’d said the word.”
“You know damn well you’re too comfortable here,” Madam Zukor said. “When I get that New Earth safe in my clutches. I’ll probably have to pry you loose from that easy chair with a hot poker, or you’ll rot in it, right here on Venus.”
“Can I help it if you got all the ambition in the family?”
“Since when are we a family?” Madam Zukor snapped back. “Watch your language.”
The door bell sounded, and a moment later a servant brought Madam Zukor a radiogram. It was from Millrock; He had landed safely with the rest of the party. He had plenty of news. He would come on to Venus as fast as possible.
CHAPTER IX
The study in the home of Chief Pilot George Hurley was full of photographs of the most popular member of the family, little George Junior.
His pictures were all over the walls.
George Hurley was probably the happiest man on his home planet as he made the rounds of those photographs, one by one. holding the real article in his arms.
“Look. Georgie boy. here you are with your Daddy, and here’s a picture with your Mamma, and here you are all alone.”
“All alone.” the little fellow repeated, pointing to the picture.
“And here you are, in rompers. Here you are, in diapers. And here you are—well, you’ll probably remove these pictures when you get a little older.”
“Don’t tell him that. Daddy!” Anna scolded, following them around the room; and their little hopeful, jumping happily in George’s arms, repeated, “Don’t tell me that, Daddy!” How he had learned to talk during George’s absence! George couldn’t get over it. When dinner was over he took the little fellow in his arms and told him the story of real giants.
“You want me to tell you how I chased a big giant away from our space ship?”
Anna protested: George shouldn’t be making up stories.
“But this is the truth,” George said. “I’ll tell it to you exactly the way it happened.”
And so Anna listened, as proudly as if she’d been there and seen it happen. George described the wide table, and the dark Mogo night, and the amber lights around the ship. Then he told how he saw the dark hulk of the giant hovering close in the darkness—and he did exactly what he’d been told to do. He’d leaped onto the big electric signal.
“And all at once, a big recorded voice began singing out of all the speakers, and it went ‘Ka-woozie-ka-woozie! Keetle, keetle, keetle!”
George animated his story by tickling little Junior in the ribs, and the little fellow laughed so hard that George started all over and told the story again. Anna thought that was enough.
“You shouldn’t overexcite him, Big Boy. The books say you shouldn’t tickle ’em in the tummy.”
“Huh? All I said was—” and George repeated the Mogo words and tickled the little fellow again. Junior promptly demanded more, but Anna said no. “Big Boy, you’re a first rate Daddy, but I hope you don’t turn out to be a tummy-tickler.”
“Bad for his nerves, huh?” George chuckled. “If I remember right, his mother had good enough nerves to live through the Earth’s bombing.”
The compliment made its impression on Anna. She gave her husband a kiss. “We’ll never forget that, will we, George?”
“How can we? They’ve got your picture on all the new half dollars—with this same hairdo. Gollies, honey, just to look at you gives me new respect for the fifty-cent piece. By the way, there was one bird on our trip—”
The telephone interrupted, and the next minute George Hurley was talking with Captain Keller. In the screen the captain’s face wore a worried expression.
“George. I hated to call you—you’ve had only two days at home—but you’re my most reliable man, and something very important has come up. Could you come right over for a few minutes?”
“You’ll have to ask the boss,” Hurley said, grinning into the screen, Anna bent to the phone and said she’d spare him for half an hour if it was for a good cause.
“It may be much longer, Anna, but it’s for a good cause, I promise you. Your husband’s going to become an important man on this New Earth.”
“If you need-him to make a speech, he’s already been practicing,” Anna said.
“What’s your subject, George?”
“The population problem,” George said, his grin broadening. “What the New Earth needs is a million little Georgie, Juniors. Right, Captain?”
“I should think half a million Georgies and half a million Annas might work out better in the long run.”
“Either way, it sounds to me like a lot of diapers,” Anna laughed. “All right. I’ll send Big Boy right over.” When George Hurley reached Keller’s office, the captain’s manner was distinctly heavy.
“I didn’t want to tell you this over the phone, but I need you to make a trip to Venus right away. Can you do it? Is your own space flivver ready for service?”
“I think so. Something serious?”
“It’s Millrock. As a member of our expedition, he was under contract to me for the next two years. But he’s gone—he’s dashed off for Venus on the Capital Liner slipped away with out a word. He’s
carrying too much information from this trip to be trusted.”
“You want me to get him and bring him back, huh?”
“Hit the capital port ahead of him if you can—or is that impossible?” They jotted a few figures and came up with Hurley’s best answer. At best, he’d reach Venus four hours behind the Capital Liner. “All right, pick up his trail and see where he goes.”
“You have any special suspicions?” Hurley asked.
“Yes. It’s just a hunch. He may be contacting Madam Zukor.”
“Zukor! Ye gods. What’s she up to?”
“You know Zukor. She wouldn’t dare show her face on the New Earth—not if we knew it. But she’s clever and who knows, she may have planted Millrock with us. His papers came from President Water field, who happens to be on Venus getting ready for the Interplanetary Conclave. But were Millrock’s papers real or forged? He may be Madam Zukor’s spy!”
“And we took him to Mogo! Ye gods!” Big Boy Hurley glanced at his watch. “I’ll be off in thirty minutes.”
“Good luck, Lieutenant. You can save your speech-making till you come back.”
“If you need speeches, call on Anna and Georgie Junior. They can both outtalk me! So long!”
CHAPTER X
“Give us your best table,” Poppendorf said to the head waiter at the Silver Garden, on the outskirts of the Venus Capitol. “On the balcony please. Overlooking the lake.”
Madam Zukor, Poppendorf and Millrock followed toward the farther end of the open-air balcony and were seated near the rail. Purple twilight was deepening the waters of the lake fifty feet below, where small white boats moved along silently. Soft music floated out over the waters. Colored lights were appearing around the curve of the lake’s edge, back toward the mists among the mountains.
“It’s a swell view.” Millrock said, settling himself in the chair beside the rail.
