“What’s your pleasure, spacemen?” asked the bartender in a gruff voice.
Strong hesitated a moment and decided to play all his cards at one turn. “We’ll have a thousand credits worth of information.”
The barman’s eyes narrowed into black slits. “What kind of information would bring that kind of a price?” he asked.
“Information about a man,” said Strong.
“What man?” asked the barman. He dropped his hand out of sight behind the bar. Tom’s eye caught the move and he wished the customs men hadn’t taken away their paralo-ray guns.
Just at that moment he heard Roger’s unmistakable laugh and turned to see the blond cadet, followed by Astro, enter, cross the room, and slap the bar for service.
“Let me take care of these two,” muttered the bartender and walked down to the end of the bar. Facing Roger and Astro, he snarled, “What’ll it be?”
“Coupla bottles of Martian water,” drawled Roger.
“Get out of here,” roared the bartender. “We don’t sell kids’ drinks in here.”
“Two bottles of Martian water!” growled Astro and leaned over the bar threateningly. Strong and Tom watched the performance with amused eyes. Without a word, the barman opened the bottles of Martian water and gave them to Roger and Astro. He turned back to Strong.
“These young rocketheads think they’re so blasted tough,” he sneered, “and then drink kids’ soda pop.”
Strong looked at Roger and Astro. “That fellow on the right,” indicating Astro’s size, “looks like he could be a little more than a child, if he got mad.”
The barman snorted and leaned over the bar. “What about that thousand credits?” he asked.
“What about it?” countered Strong.
“That’s a lot of money just for information,” said the barman.
“It’s my money,” replied Strong coolly, “and my business!”
“What kind of information you interested in,” asked the bartender.
“I told you, information about a man,” said Strong. “Gus Wallace. Happen to know him?” Strong pulled a roll of crisp credit notes out of his jacket pocket. The barman looked at them greedily.
“Maybe. What’cha want with him?” he asked.
“He knifed a friend of ours in here two years ago.”
“Yeah?” drawled the barman. “Who?”
“Pete,” answered Strong, suddenly realizing he didn’t know the scar-faced man’s last name.
“Pete? Pete who?” asked the barman craftily.
“What are you trying to do?” snapped Tom suddenly. “Play space lawyer? You know Pete was knifed in here by Gus Wallace two years ago! Carved up good!” He made a slashing gesture from his ear to his throat, indicating the scar on Pete’s face.
“So you want Wallace, eh?” mused the bartender.
“We want him a thousand credits’ worth,” said Strong.
“You didn’t tell me for what, yet.”
“None of your space-blasting business,” roared Strong. “You want the thousand or not?”
The bartender couldn’t keep his eyes off the crisp roll of credit notes Strong rippled under his nose and hesitated. “Well, to tell you the truth, I ain’t seen him for a long time.”
“Then do you know anyone who has?” asked Strong.
“Hard to tell,” said the bartender huskily. “But I do know the guy who would know if anyone does.”
“Who?” asked Tom.
“On Venusport’s Spaceman’s Row. There’s a joint called the Café Cosmos. Go there and ask for a little guy named Shinny. Nicholas Shinny. If anyone knows about Wallace, he’ll know.”
Tom’s heart almost stopped. Nicholas Shinny was a retired spaceman who had taken part in his last adventure to Alpha Centauri, and was a good friend of Strong’s and the Polaris unit. Shinny had always operated on the edge of the space code. Nothing illegal, but as Shinny himself put it, ‘just bending the code a little, not breaking it.’
Tom spoke up. “That’s only worth a hundred credits,” he said.
“Whaddya mean!” snapped the barman.
“How would Nick Shinny know Gus Wallace?” asked Strong.
“They prospected the asteroids together years ago.”
Strong dropped a hundred-credit note on the bar and turned away without another word. Tom followed, and as they passed Roger and Astro, a knowing look passed between them, and Tom gestured for them to follow.
Having heard the conversation, Astro and Roger walked over to the bartender who was folding the credit note before putting it in his pocket.
“You sell your information pretty cheap, spaceman,” snarled Roger. “Suppose those two were Solar Guardsmen in disguise?”
The bartender paused, then shook his head. “Couldn’t be!” he said.
“Why not?” asked Roger.
“Because the Solar Guard has a guy salted away that knows exactly where Wallace is.”
CHAPTER 9
“That’s the story, sir,” said Strong to Commander Walters, after the Solar Guard captain had related the information he had wormed out of the bartender at the Spacelanes Bar and the news Roger and Astro had brought.
“All right, Steve,” nodded the commander. “I’ll have the man picked up right away and psychographed. Meantime, you go on to Venus and see Nicholas Shinny.”
“Very well, sir,” said Strong. “End transmission!”
“End transmission,” acknowledged Walters. Strong flipped the switch and the teleceiver screen darkened.
Fifteen minutes later, the Dog Star blasted off from Mars, heading for Venus.
During the trip back to the young planet that was rapidly growing into a major industrial center rivaling Earth, Strong received a report from Space Academy that the bartender had been picked up. His name was Joseph Price, and after questioning him under truth serum, Solar Guard security officers found the man’s mind to be so filled with criminal plots and counter-plots, it would take several weeks for the psychograph analyst to learn the name of the man he claimed would know the whereabouts of Wallace. This was disappointing news for Strong, especially since the report included news of a second, third, and fourth strike by Wallace and Simms on spaceships near the asteroid belt.
Reaching the starting place of their adventure, Venusport and the Solar Exposition, Strong and the three cadets went immediately to a small suburban section of the great city and the home of Nicholas Shinny.
Shinny lived comfortably in a small house made of Titan crystal, enjoying himself during the day catching Venusian fatfish and watching the stereos at night. Once an enlisted spaceman, he had been retired with full pension and was living in ease and comfort. When Strong and the three cadets arrived at the elderly spaceman’s house, they found him busy teaching a young Venusian wolfhound puppy how to retrieve.
“Well, blast my jets!” cried the old man. “If it ain’t Tommy, Roger, and the big fella, Astro! And Captain Strong!”
“Hello, Nick!” said Strong with a smile. “You’re a sight for space-blind eyes!”
“Heh-heh-heh,” cackled Shinny, his merry eyes twinkling against his deep space tan. “It’s mighty good to see you boys. Come on in the house. I got a mess of fatfish just pulled out of the stream and some of the most delicious biscuits you ever had in your life!”
“Well, thanks, Nick,” hesitated the captain. “But we’re in—”
“Can’t be in too much of a hurry to eat,” snapped the old man with a grin. “Anything you got to say is better said when you got a bellyful of Molly’s cookin’.”
“Molly!” cried Tom. “But, Mr. Shinny—”
“When—” gulped Astro, “when did you—”
“Hey! Hold on!” cried the old spaceman. “Just damp your tubes there, youngsters! You’re way off course. Molly ain’t nothing but an electronic cook I got installed in the kitchen. She cooks better’n any space-brained woman and she never opens her mouth to give me any sass!”
The four spacemen la
ughed at Shinny’s obvious indignation.
“Now come on!” he growled. “Let’s eat. I’m hungry!”
Refusing to allow them to get near Molly, Shinny began pushing food into slots, compartments, turning on switches and punching buttons. In the cozy living room, Strong relaxed while the three cadets played with the Venusian wolfhound. Finally Shinny announced dinner and they fell to with gusto. There wasn’t much talk during the course of the meal. Strong and the boys felt that Shinny would let them know when he was ready.
Finally the meal was over. Shinny sprawled in his chair, lit his pipe, then looked at his guests, his eyes twinkling. “All right, me friends, I think you’ve held back long enough. Let’s have it.”
Strong immediately told the old spaceman the entire story, from Wallace and Simms’ false concession at the exposition to the present.
“You see, Nick,” he concluded, “with an adjustable light-key enabling them to open any lock in the solar system, nothing is safe. Personally, I think it’s only because they haven’t a larger or faster ship and aren’t better armed that they haven’t tried more daring piracy. They’ll reach that point soon, though. They’ve already robbed four ships for arms alone.”
“I’ll do anything I can to help you, Captain,” said Shinny. “What is it you want to know?”
“We suspect that Wallace has a secret hide-out in the asteroid belt,” said Strong. “Since you once prospected the asteroids with him I thought you might know where the hide-out is.”
Shinny grew reflective and knocked the ashes out of his pipe before he answered. “That was a long time ago, Captain. More’n ten years. And Gus Wallace was a real square spaceman then. He didn’t turn bad until after we split up and he met that other feller.”
“What other fellow?” asked Strong.
Skinny paused. There was a hard glint in his eyes. “Bull Coxine!” He spat the name out as though it had left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Coxine!” exclaimed Strong.
“You heard me,” snorted Shinny. “Bull Coxine and Gus Wallace got together after me and Wallace lost our stake hunting for uranium pitchblende in the asteroids and split up. Next thing I heard, him and Coxine was mixed up in that business up on Ganymede when the Credit Exchange was held up.”
Strong’s face had turned the color of chalk. “Coxine!” he repeated under his breath.
Noticing Strong’s reaction to Shinny’s statement, Tom asked, “Who is Coxine, Captain Strong?”
Strong was silent and Shinny turned to the cadets.
“When your skipper here was a young feller just starting out in the Solar Guard,” the old man explained, “he was on a routine flight out to Titan and there was a mutiny. Coxine was the ringleader. The captain joined up with Coxine after they had put his skipper in the brig. When he had Coxine’s confidence, he regained control of the ship and sent Coxine and the others to a prison asteroid. Coxine has hated the captain ever since and swore to get him.”
“But how did he pull the holdup on Ganymede, then?” asked Roger.
“Coxine escaped from the prison asteroid in a jet boat, disguised as a guard,” continued Shinny. “Only man ever to escape. He drifted around in the belt for a while and was picked up by a freighter going to Ganymede. The freighter had been out rocket-hopping among the asteroids, collecting the prospectors’ small supplies of uranium and taking the stuff back to Ganymede for refining. Wallace happened to be dead-heading on the freighter. When they got to Ganymede, and Coxine saw all the money lying around at the Credit Exchange to pay off the prospectors, he convinced Wallace to go in with him and they robbed the Exchange. Coxine was caught red-handed, but Wallace got away. In fact, the Solar Guard didn’t know Wallace had anything to do with it. So Coxine was taken back to the prison asteroid, and Wallace has been driftin’ around the system ever since.”
“But, Mr. Shinny,” asked Astro, “if you knew Wallace was tied up with the robbery of the Credit Exchange, why didn’t you tell the Solar Guard before now?”
“Sonny,” sighed Shinny, “most of what I know is space dust and space gas. But even so, I don’t think Commander Walters or Captain Strong, or even you boys, would think much of me if I went around like an old space crawler, blowin’ my jets all over the place.”
Strong had listened to Shinny fill in the background of Bull Coxine with a thoughtful look in his eyes. He remembered all too clearly the mutiny on the ship out to Titan. Coxine had been an enlisted Solar Guard petty officer aboard the ship. He had made great strides in two years and was being considered as an officer candidate on the very day he tried to take over the ship. When Strong regained control later, he talked to Coxine, trying to find out why he had started the mutiny. But the man had only cursed him, swearing vengeance. Strong hadn’t seen him since.
“So you think he would know where Wallace and Simms might be hiding out?” Strong asked finally.
“If anyone does,” replied Shinny, “he does. And I’ll tell you this, Captain, if you go to talk to him and I figger you will, you’ll find him a lot tougher.”
“Will I?”
“Well, take yourself, for instance. No reflection on you, of course, but take yourself. You’re smart, you’re hard, and you got a good mind. You’re one of the best spacemen in the deep. Take all that and turn it bad. Real bad. Sour it with too many years on a prison asteroid and you’ve got a fire-eating rocket buster as tough and as rough as God and society can make him!”
The three cadets gulped and looked at Strong. They saw their skipper clench his teeth and ball his fists into tight knots.
“I know,” said Strong in a hoarse whisper, “but if he knows where Wallace and Simms are, he’ll tell me. You can bet your last credit, he’ll tell me!”
Shinny paused reflectively. “I won’t bet,” he said simply.
* * * *
The air inside the space shack was stale because of a faulty filter in the oxygen circulator that neither Wallace nor Simms bothered to clean. The two men lazed around in stocking feet and undershirts, listening to popular music coming over the audio receiver on a late pickup from one of the small Jovian satellite colonies near by.
“Pour me another cup of coffee, Simms,” grunted Wallace.
The smaller man poured a cup of steaming black liquid and silently handed it over to his companion. They both listened as the music faded to an end and the voice of the announcer crackled over the loud-speaker.
“This audiocast has been beamed to space quadrants D through K, as a courtesy to the army of uranium prospectors working the asteroid belt. Hope you’ve enjoyed it, spacemen, and happy hunting!”
Wallace reached over and snapped off the receiver. “Thanks, pal.” He laughed. “The hunting’s been real good! We’ve got a full catch!” The giant spaceman laughed again.
“Yeah,” agreed Simms. “I just went over the take. We’ve got enough money in that locker”—he indicated a black box on the floor—“to sit back and take it easy for the rest of our lives.”
“Yeah?” snarled Wallace. “You mean sitting in the sun on a crummy lakeside, watching the birds and bees?”
“Gus,” asked Simms thoughtfully, “you got any idea how much fun we can buy with the credits in that box?”
“Yeah, I have!” sneered Wallace, “and I know what a thousand times that much will buy too!”
Suddenly Simms turned and looked his partner in the eye. “What do you say we quit now, Gus? I mean it. We got plenty.”
“You sound like you been exposed to too many cosmic rays!” said Wallace, tapping his head with one finger. “We’ve got the biggest secret in the system, the adjustable light-key plus an airtight hide-out, and you want to quit!”
“It ain’t that,” whined Simms. “It’s the other deal. I don’t mind going out and blasting a few freighters, but to try to—”
“Lissen,” interrupted Wallace, “I’d rather try it and take the licking if we mess it up, than not try it and take that licking. I know which side of the space lane
I’d better be on when the time comes!”
Simms hesitated and then sighed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Come on. Let’s listen to that story spool again.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Simms. “I know that spool by heart! We’ve heard it at least fifty times!”
“One slip-up,” said Wallace, sticking his finger in Simms’ face, “just one slip-up and we’re finished! We’ve got to be sure!”
With a reluctant shrug of his shoulders, Simms poured another cup of coffee and sat on the side of his bunk while Wallace inserted the story spool in the audio playback.
They settled themselves and listened as a deep voice began to speak in a loud whisper.
“…The operation will take place on the night of October twenty-ninth at exactly twenty-one hundred hours. You will make your approach from section eleven, M quadrant—”
Simms jumped up abruptly and switched off the playback. Turning to Wallace, he pleaded, “I can’t listen to it again! I know it by heart. Instructions on how to get to the time capsule; instructions on what to take, and how to build an adjustable light-key after we get the plans; instructions on how to hijack the first ship and what to take. Orders, information, instructions! I’m sick of listening. If you want to, go ahead, but I’m going to work on the ship!”
“O.K., O.K.,” said Wallace, getting up. “Don’t blow your jets. I hate the thing as much as you do. Wait a minute and I’ll go with you.”
The two men began climbing into space suits. In a few minutes they were dressed in black plastic suits with small round clear plastic helmets. They stepped into the air lock on one side of the room and closed a heavy door. Wallace adjusted the valve in the chamber and watched the needle drop until it showed zero.
“O.K.,” said Wallace over his helmet spacephones. “All the air’s out. Open the outer lock.”
Simms cranked the heavy handle, and the door in the opposite wall of the chamber slowly swung open. They stepped out into the airless black void of space and onto the surface of an asteroid, drifting in the thickest part of the belt. Surrounding the asteroid were countless smaller secondary satellites circling the mother body like a wide curving blanket. The mother body was perfectly hidden from outside observation. It made a perfect base of operations for the two space pirates.
The Tom Corbett Space Cadet Megapack: 10 Classic Young Adult Sci-Fi Novels Page 42
