Vance, Jack

by The Space Pirate

The corporal dialed a communicator, spoke at some length, nodded. He turned to Fay and Paddy. "The orders are to let you down."

  "Thanks," said Fay.

  Paddy whispered, "The suspicious devils, they want to trap us and I'll bet you they watch us through telescopes all day."

  Fay said, "It's a ticklish feeling—almost as if we're trapped in this hole."

  "Hush now," said Paddy. "There's still the Blackthorn luck on our side."

  Down into the glistening gap, they saw that the walls were lined with great banks of crystals, hanging like bunches of grapes. As Almach rose in the sky, the colors glanced and twinkled, wove magic nets across the gap, tangled meshes of near-tangible fire. On a ledge a thousand feet below the surface, sat a great house, a hall with two wide, white-columned wings in a wide garden of the peculiar crystalline plants.

  Sweeping from nowhere, the guardship drew alongside again.

  "As a courtesy due journalists from Earth, you have been extended freedom of the house. The bereaved family is not at home but the servants have been instructed to assist you. They will serve you what food and drink you wish."

  He bowed with sardonic courtesy and the guard-ship rose swiftly, as if it had been jerked up by a cable.

  "Rats in a trap," said Paddy.

  "Probably they don't suspect us directly," Fay said thoughtfully. "They think we might possibly be some sort of accomplices. They're giving us plenty of rope. Well, we'll worry about it later. It's a chance we have to take."

  They landed on the terrace amid utter silence. The cool space of the house opened in front of them and through the columns they could see the rich furniture for which the Shauls were famous—chairs of every height and inclination, walls upholstered in peach-colored floss.

  There was no door, no glass—merely a curtain of gripped-air to exclude insects and dust. It parted in front of their faces with a slight sensation of bursting as if they had walked through a soap bubble.

  The major-domo bowed slightly and for the next hour conducted them about the villa, answering their questions but volunteering no information. Clearly he considered the task beneath his dignity. Paddy and Fay snapped pictures at random.

  The area of interest for Paddy and Fay was the terrace behind the house. Shielded from the polychrome radiance of the chasm it was bathed in a soft cool light from the sky. At the rear the cliff rose, faced to a height of fifty feet with two-foot squares of aventurine quartz.

  Involuntarily, both counted three from the right, two up. There it was, a clear yellowish slab, flecked with a million flitting spangles.

  A woman-servant appeared to announce lunch and the major-domo conducted them to a small table set with synthetic fruits, a platter of toasted fungus, yeast wafers and rods of porous, dark-brown substance which crunched and tasted like meat.

  Paddy was gloomy. Twice he looked at Fay, started to speak but was deterred by her warning frown. The major-domo served them with a light pink wine, which they carried to the railing around the terrace, where they stood overlooking the gulf.

  Fay said without moving her lips, "I feel as if every word is being picked up and broadcast to a desk where three or four Shauls are listening in dead silence."

  "So do I," muttered Paddy.

  Fay sipped her wine, stared out across the color-shot emptiness. "We can't do anything more today."

  "No, let's get back to Aevelye and our ship."

  As they cleared the mouth of Fumighast Ventrole, the guardship bellied down, pulled alongside and the Shaul cor-

  poral requested the film pack of the camera for censorship purposes.

  Glumly Paddy slid off the cartridge, handed it across the gap.

  "It will be returned tomorrow," said the corporal.

  Their ship had been searched. Nothing was out of place. Indeed, the strongest indication of the search was a rather marked neatness to the cabin.

  "Ah, the vandals!" Paddy ground between his teeth. "Now I wonder if—"

  He met Fay's eye. She gave him such a brilliant glance that he subsided, and did no more than mutter under his breath.

  For half an hour they spoke nothing but generalities. Then, with Almach settled in its flame of lavender and orange light, they left the boat, walked to the edge of the field, looked out across the great gorge, which was already filled with pastel shadows and glowing tendrils of mist.

  Fay said, "They may not have the ship tapped for sound and there may not be a spy cell peeking at us somewhere— but as you know they're suspicious creatures and they're probably overlooking no chances. It seemed to me that their search job was just clumsy enough for us to notice and then start frantically after any secrets we might have had."

  "Fay," said Paddy gloomily, "We're at a dead end. We're at a standstill. Any pictures we take they'll scrutinize with eyes like currycombs. If we try to bust down there with our ship, take our pictures and lambaste out again, they'll have us bottled up like the Green Imp of Ballycastle."

  Fay, rubbing her chin with a pale finger, said nothing. Paddy felt a sudden surge of the protective instinct. Glancing down at the blonde head beside him he wrapped an arm about her shoulders.

  She said, "Paddy, I've got an idea..."

  Paddy looked off into the night. "I've got one too."

  She looked up quickly. "What's yours?"

  "You tell me yours first."

  "Well—you know that in all probability the Shaul data has been engraved or painted somehow in that aventurine quartz in a fluorescent dye which glows at the proper frequencies."

  "Sure—of course."

  "Presumably the whole wall glows—but only the single plate will have a legible message when illuminated by the particular four frequencies."

  "Right."

  "Tomorrow night we'll do some night photography—hundreds of shots."

  "Ah," said Paddy, smiling whimsically down into her face, "and what a brain you hide behind that sober little face!"

  She laughed. "Now, what's your idea?" Paddy said with a stammer, "I want you to marry me, Fay."

  "Now, Paddy Blackthorn," said Fay, "you don't want to marry me any more than you want to marry that Shaul corporal."

  "Ah yes, I do—and never say I don't," said Paddy energetically.

  "Pooh, it's propinquity—animal spirits. A day ashore on Earth and you'll have forgotten all about me."

  "Then you refuse me?" Paddy narrowed his eyes.

  Fay looked away. "I didn't say yes and I didn't say no. And I won't till after we're finished with this job and I see what kind of a gentleman you are and how you conduct yourself when there's temptation in front of you."

  "Now, Fay," said Paddy, squeezing her to him, "then it's yes?"

  Fay pushed him away. "It's no—for now. And a maybe if I find you've stopped thinking about those Maeve women. How'd I feel with a home and two or three little Paddys and you pinching at all those Maeve girls' legs?

  "Now enough of this nonsense," she said. "We've got the most important job that's ever been and all you talk about is Maeve women...."

  "Just one little kiss," pleaded Paddy. "Just so that if the Shauls get us, I'll die happy. Just a little kiss."

  "No—well, just one ... oh, Paddy.... All right now, get away from me or I'll dose your food until you won't know a woman from a barn owl."

  CHAPTER XIX

  The next day was quiet. During the morning, Fay pursued the ostensible purpose of their visit by making biographical memoranda concerning the life of the late Son at the Propaganda Office.

  Paddy visited Dane, the electrician, and took delivery of the ultra-violet projector.

  Dane was proud of his work—an aluminum case eight or nine inches on a side with a handle for carrying. Four lenses opened into the front, a power-pack fitted into clips at the back. In a row along the top were four tuners with vernier settings, four output valves, four switches.

  "And is it accurate?" Paddy asked skeptically.

  "Accurate?" cried Dane. "It's as accurate as the Inter-world S
tandard that I calibrated it by! Three times I checked each one of the circuits and there's never an offbeat!"

  "Good enough, and here's your money with a bit of a bonus."

  During the afternoon a messenger delivered the prints to the pictures they had made the previous day. None was missing nor were there any deletions.

  Evening came with its violent flare of color. Paddy and Fay stacked their equipment on the dilapidated old airboat, rose over Aevelye, took off for Fumighast Ventrole.

  Over the mouth of the hole, the guard ship pulled up alongside.

  The same corporal saluted them, glancing at their makeshift equipment with contemptuous amusement. "What is it now? More pictures? It's dark."

  "We'd like to get some night shots," said Fay. "To get the effect of the lighting and the fluorescence of the rocks. We've brought along an ultra-violet projector."

  "So that's why you had that thing built!" said the corporal. He shrugged. "Go to it."

  They dropped away from him into the chasm. " 'So that's why you had that thing built,'" Paddy mimicked in a girlish falsetto. "Strange he didn't ask when our wedding was to be— they seem so interested in all our doings."

  They landed on the terrace in front of the house, and the darkness, faintly luminescent, was like the fog of dreams.

  Fay sighed. "If I weren't so scared and nervous I'd be in love with the place."

  "Maybe we'll come here on our honeymoon," said Paddy. She peered at him through the darkness to see whether or not he was serious.

  A voice at their elbow said, "Good evening." It was the Shaul major-domo. "More pictures?"

  "More pictures is right," said Paddy. "We'd like some shots of you making the beds and maybe dumping the garbage down the chute or maybe putting away the famous silver."

  "I'm sorry. I'm afraid that is impossible."

  "In that case, with your permission we'll just infest the outer grounds."

  "My permission has not been sought," replied the major-domo with a soft silken edge to his voice. "The orders to throw the grounds open to anyone who chose to drop in came from Aevelye."

  Paddy grinned. "You and I now—we'd made a good pair on the stage."

  The major-domo's cowl vibrated rapidly. He turned and walked off.

  For an hour they took pictures of the villa and the silent garden, using a variety of ultra-violet frequencies. At last they worked their way around to the back terrace.

  Paddy turned the projector against the back wall. It fluoresced beautifully in striking patterns of red, fiery yellow, gold, lemon-white. He played frequencies at random over the wall while Fay took pictures.

  "Now, Paddy," whispered Fay. "The four."

  Paddy set the dials. "Got the number of your films?"

  "Yes. Three hundred six through three hundred nine, inclusive."

  For a flickering instant Paddy pressed all four switches at once and in that instant the random glowings, lines and loops in the significant square coalesced to form lines of legible characters. They even showed the same pattern as had the other data sheets—two preliminary paragraphs and two columns of figures.

  "That's it," said Paddy. "Now—one at a time." Using each frequency separately, they made four photographs.

  "We'll make a few more," said Fay, "and then we'll go."

  "Wonder of wonders," said Paddy. "I think we've got it." When at last they rose above Fumighast Ventrole, the guardship, as before, pulled up alongside and the captain requested the camera, the film pack and the ultra-violet projector.

  "If the censor finds nothing wrong," he told them, "you'll have everything back tomorrow." Paddy and Fay flew back to their ship.

  Again during the morning, Fay noted information regarding the dead Shaul on while Paddy, under the pretext of sealing a leak in the waterline, sought through the ship for spy-cells without success.

  During the early afternoon a messenger brought them their prints. Fay fanned them out swiftly—306—307—308— 809. All there, clean and distinct. When superimposed they would spell out the Shaul fifth of the space-drive engineering.

  "I'm off to Room Twelve," said Paddy. Trotting across the field to the Terminal Building he found Room 12 and recovered their power-arm and keys.

  They filled watertanks, shipped two new energy cartridges. As Almach was dropping for its bath in the flaming evening vapors, they took off. Presently Shaul was half of a bright orange globe below.

  Paddy sighed. "Fay, I've lost ten pounds. I've—"

  "Shhh," said Fay. "We'd better check the ship for buttons and spy cells." In an hour, while Paddy encouraged her, she found two audio buttons disguised as rivets and a spy cell on the knob of a high locker.

  "Now," she breathed. "Maybe we can talk—though I still feel jumpy."

  Paddy rose to his feet. "And maybe there's time for a little kiss or two."

  Fay sighed. "Oh, all right. ... Now stop it," she gasped. "Stop it, Paddy Blackthorn! You'd never marry a fallen woman and I intend to marry you honest and legal and make you squirm the rest of your life, so you behave yourself— until it's legal."

  CHAPTER XX

  The boat drifted quietly in the great dark emptiness, as remote from the worlds of life as a soul after death. Paddy and Fay sat at the chart table in the observation dome, watching the far stars.

  "It's only now," said Paddy, "with four-fifths of it behind us, that I'm getting the jitters."

  Fay smiled wanly. She looked tired. Her eyes glowed with an unhealthy brightness, her skin was transparent, her fingers thin, nervous. "That's the way of anything, Paddy. If you're desperate, any gain looks good. But now—"

  "When I was chained on that little asteroid," said Paddy, "I could think of nothing finer than making off in that beautiful big-domed boat. Sure, I'd take any risk for it. There was nothing for me to lose. Now it's different. I want to live. I've something to live for." He looked at her with a glance that was like stroking her hair.

  For several minutes they sat in silence. The boat drifted through space at an unknown speed. Perhaps it hung motionless. There was no way of knowing.

  Paddy stirred. "See It out there—Mirach. It's staring back at us, daring us to come closer."

  Fay's hand trembled. She laughed uncertainly. "It does have a funny look. Like one of the Koton eyes."

  Paddy said, "Of all the Langtry races I hate only the Kotons."

  "Probably because they've deviated the most." Paddy shrugged. "I wonder. The Kotons and the Shauls resemble normal men the most of any. The Shauls have their skin cowls. The Kotons, their saucer eyes."

  "It's something beyond their mere appearance. It's their psychology. The Shauls are not too far removed from men. Earthers can understand most of their motives. But the Kotons—they're far, far away from any Earther's comprehension It's as if they were stuff of their own twilight world.

  "To speak to one you'd say here was the strangest, most unique individual possible—a creature that might take to the wilderness to be alone with his own peculiarities. And then when you see them at one of their shoutings—"

  "Or at a public torturing, like the time I was oiler on the Christobel Rocket."

  Fay winced. "—then they're all the same and you can think of nothing but the rows and rows and rows of big saucer eyes. That's all you see. Acres of eyes as big as clam-shells. And then you know that they're all the same in their oddness."

  "Like a race of crazy people. But no," mused Paddy, "I'd hardly call them mad—"

  "It would mean little if you did. They have so few sensibilities in common with the root stock."

  "Few? There's not any."

  "Oh—there are a few. Curiosity—anger—pride."

  "Well, that's true," Paddy conceded. "They're a cowardly crew, some of them, and they have those sex festivals."

  Fay shook her head. "You're emphasizing the wrong things. Their fear isn't the fear of Earthers. It's closer to what we'd call prudence. There's nothing of panic or fright in it, nothing glandular. And their sex is no more
emotional than scratching an itch. Maybe that's their difference—the fact that their glands and hormones play such minor parts in their personalities."

  Paddy clenched his fists, shoved out his chin. "I hate the vermin as I hate flies and I feel no more pangs killing Kotons than killing flies."

  "I hardly blame you," said Fay. "They're very cruel."

  "I've heard that they eat human beings and with relish."

  Fay said mournfully, "And why not? Earthers eat pigs and that's about their attitude."

  Paddy gritted his teeth. "They invented the nerve-suit. What more can you say to their discredit?" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I hate taking you out there, Fay, and putting you to the risk."

  "I'm no better than you are," she said.

  Paddy rose to his feet. "In any case there's only nonsense in frightening ourselves. Maybe we'll have it easy."

  Fay read from the last little piece of parchment. " 'The Plain of Thish, where Arma-Geth shows the heroes to the wondering stars. Under my mighty right hand.' Do you know anything about Arma-Geth, Paddy?"

  He nodded, turned to stare at the stars ahead. "It's a sort of heroes' memorial in the middle of the plain—'which may not be marred or imprinted on pain of sore death.' "

  Fay stared. "And why do you say the last?"

  "That's their law. It's a big plain, fifty miles square, I'd say, and as flat as a table. They used a million Asmasian and Kudthu and Earther slaves to lay it out level. There's not a bit of gravel the size of a pea to mar the flat. At the center of the plain are the great statues of all the old Sons. And Sam Langtry himself sits at the head of the aisle."

  "You sound as if you've been there."

  "Oh, not me. There's no one allowed near the plain but the Kotons and few of them. A drunken Shaul woman told me about it once."

  Fay said dully, "You make it sound difficult."

  "If we had an armed cruiser now," said Paddy, "we might drop smash down beside it, shoot up everything but what we wanted, take off before they could get to us."

  Fay shook her head. "Not on Koto. There are five satellite forts covering every square mile on the planet. They'd have your cruiser broken and white-hot before ten seconds had passed."