But before she could use it, Skunky spotted her. "T'e Roy!" he squawked, pointing. Morgas turned and swore. The pirates started to consciousness. Esther Cabanne sat up sharply.
Sandy said, "Nuts", and kicked closed the door between her and the pirates.
Then the princess turned to what she hoped was the outer wall. Making a finger-pistol, she BLASEd the wall, blasting a huge hole.
Cabanne held up her bound wrists, and begged, "Please?" but just then the pirates began pounding on the door.
"Sorry, lady. You'd just slow me down."
As the door opened, Sandy snapped off one pot-shot, delaying the pirates an instant, and dived through the smoking hole in the wall.
In the Martian gravity, she soared off across the street, somersaulting and landing lightly in the roadway below.
By the time the pirates reached the opening, she had disappeared.
Cabanne was still staring at the hole, stunned at being abandoned.
Morgas turned and slapped Skunky so hard he fell down. "Y' were s'posed t' be watchin' her!"
"But I— but you— but... ." Skunky gave it up. He knew he couldn't win.
"Get everyt'ing t'get'er, boys. We gotta git outta here."
One of the crew asked, "What about t' broad, Cap'n?"
"She jes' be in our way. I'll take care a' 'er."
Cabanne cringed.
"We headin' f' t' ship?"
Morgas looked down at his captive with a sudden leering smile that actually scared the usually fearless woman.
"No... I gots me a better idea."
Chapter Three
Not to the Swiftest
THE FRONT DOOR burst off its hinges and crashed into the room. Wild Bill Webbe and Jack Flynn dropped the portable battering ram and hugged the door-frame, pistols ready. But no one stirred inside the flophouse room.
Covering each other, the two spacemen entered the room. After a quick check, Jack announced, "They're all gone, Sandy."
The Princess, who had for once held back and waited in the hall, joined the captain in the flat.
After making good her escape, Her Grace had beetled it to the nearest cop house, where she was put in contact with the boys, still soaring backward up the tunnel in their commandeered train. They’d met down the block from the flop, and Bill and Jack had been perfectly amenable to Sandy’s well calculated strategy: They’d simply, as reported, knocked in the door.
"Not all of them," came the Marshal's voice from the next room. Sandy and Jack joined him, and the princess could barely suppress a laugh.
Esther Cabanne had been left behind. Bound wrists to ankles, and gagged – and stripped to her foundation garments. Knowing better than to harm her, Cap'n Morgas had settled for some good old fashioned humiliation.
Bill holstered his pistol and bent to the task of freeing the woman. As soon as her gag was removed she began complaining:
"You! How dare you run off and leave me behind? It's dereliction of duty! You won't get away with this! I'll have your badge this time! I'll make you sorry you ever met me!"
Sandy sighed and said, "I'm already sorry about that."
"Mis'ess Cabanne, please," Wild Bill spoke up. "The pirates: do you have any idea where their ship is?"
The woman turned on him with fury in her eyes. "What are you accusing me of? You think I had something to do with those… those… pirates?"
Sandy made a rude noise. "Lady, that isn't even open for debate. All we want to know now is where to find them – unless you want them to go free?"
Cabanne obviously didn't. "I heard one of them say it was disguised as a tour-bus – docked here in Olympia."
Jack checked his watch, then at Sandy. "It's been an hour since you got away. They'll be gone by now."
"No," said Cabanne. "He said they had something to do first."
"Besides," Sandy observed, "there's something he doesn't know about the spaceport... ."
THE CLERK LOOKED at the ray-gun with eyes that showed white all around. With trembling hands he took the plastic card that one of the pirates proffered and swiped it through the slot in the computer register.
This was the office of the Mars Five Thousand Race Corporation, Limited, the agency that handled all of the arrangements to make the race a reality. This morning, while most of the company officials were out watching their work come to fruition, a few souls were stuck in the office, handling the last of the paperwork.
Most transactions on Mars, like on Earth, were handled electronically, and people carried debit cards. It made transacting business easier. It also made bank-robbery more challenging.
Morgas, Skunky, and two other pirates, plus the cabin boy, had burst into the race office and quickly subdued the guard. The remote security system had already been fooled, as the clerk discovered when he tried to raise the alarm.
Having slipped the card through the reader, the clerk handed it back to the pirate.
"T'ank ye's," the pirate captain said. Then he shot the poor clerk right between the eyes.
"Get busy, Puncher," Morgas ordered. Puncher, a rabbity-looking red-haired pirate, took the plastic card and put it in another slot. Already activated by the clerk, and verified by a chemical on the man's fingers, the debit card was now ready to use.
Fingers flashing over the key-board, Puncher transferred every bit of credit out of the company's account. Somewhere in a bank computer across town, the funds were transferred to this new account, and a signal echoed back, totaling the receipts onto the magnetic stripe on the pirates' card.
"Got it yet? We ain't got much time," Morgas said. "Ol' Roy'll be on our tails soon."
"T' money's ours, Cap'n." Puncher handed over the card. "Now I jes' gotta make sure it stays t'at way."
Puncher now sent out a new set of codes, back-dooring his way into the bank's computer. Once in, he erased the record of the transfer of funds. Then he picked out a file at random, and started it copying itself. It would continue this operation as long as there was space available in the bank's memory. This way the deleted file would be over-written, ensuring its loss.
"C'mon, c'mon," Morgas ordered.
"Y' want t'is done right?" Puncher snapped. "Gimme a second!"
Lastly, the computer-genius pirate brought a small metal disc from his pocket, and fixed it to the side of the computer.
"There. It's scrambled all t' Hell. Nobody'll be able t' prove that card's money came from here. Let's go."
Morgas grumbled that that was what he'd been saying for the past few minutes, but followed the other pirates out.
The job had gone off without a hitch.
UNFORTUNATELY FOR MORGAS, the escape wouldn't go so well. Arriving at the space-port, the pirates found the place aswarm with tourists and race fans and racers. The second lap was about to start.
Collecting their breathing gear from lockers, the pirates stepped out of the terminal air-locks and onto the tarmac.
It took seemingly forever to shoulder their way through the crowds to the pirate barkentine. It was a good-sized ship, a hundred forty feet from nose to tail, thirty abeam, with three decks plus a command quarterdeck astern. At the moment it was shielded with yellow panels, tricked out to look like a tour-bus from Indianapolis.
Once they reached the gangway, the cabin boy ran ahead. It was always her duty to see that the captain's chair was ready for him as soon as he came aboard.
Just as Morgas' boot hit the gangway, the cabin boy appeared in the hatch. Someone grabbed her and dragged her back inside, but not before she yelled, "Cap'n! Badgers!"
The pirates broke and ran instantly, as police came from the ship and others appeared from out of the crowds. Pandemonium broke out as Skunky and Puncher began firing ray-gun blasts at their pursuers.
Morgas didn't bother shooting, he just ran. Back across the broad tarmac he fled, only to stop short as he saw Wild Bill and Sandy appear in the air-lock.
Looking around frantically, he spotted a possible escape: there on the launching pad w
as a sleek-looking ultralight flyer. Must be the first one being set up for launch.
Morgas' only thought was getting out of this crowded spot. If he could reach Purplost, and the maze of Noctis Labyrinthus beyond it, he was safe. There was an old pirate hide-out there, long abandoned and never discovered. If he could get there, they'd never find him.
Bounding across the field, Morgas raced for the flyer. Security, unaware of the identity of the interloper, tried to head him off. But they only reached him one at a time, and he knocked them aside like a linebacker running down the gridiron.
SANDY PENDRAGON SPOTTED Morgas and pointed him out to Wild Bill. "He's going for that racer," she said.
"Those guards'll never stop him," Bill realized.
"We can catch him – in the ship," Jack Flynn put in, coming up behind them. He pushed through the air-lock without waiting to put on his breathing mask, taking care of that detail as he sprinted for the bay to which Thetis had been transferred after landing.
Sandy and Bill caught up with him at the broad doors of the docking site. They were closed – and bleachers had been set up, blocking them!
"Aw, f' Christ's sake," Jack said with a groan.
Bill stared in surprise. "...This must be the station master's revenge for our leaving her in the middle of the field."
Jack turned toward the tower, and began repeatedly pounding a fist into his palm. "He's gonna be really sorry, the smart ass."
Sandy was watching as the little engine of the ultralight that Morgas was stealing abruptly burst to life and the flyer began roaring down the runway.
Sandy said without looking back at the Captain, "Tell him he's under arrest for obstruction of Justice, and maybe accomplice after the fact. But go ahead and punch him, first.
"Bill, let's go. We can't wait for the ship."
As Sandy bolted, Bill asked, "Go where?"
"To the only aircraft on the field!"
JERRY CABANNE WAS running across the field, waving his arms and screaming, vainly attempting to recall his stolen plane. Slanths and the FoMarsCo pilot were standing by their ultralights, watching with some amusement mixed with concern. Their launch times were coming up, but they'd been predicated upon the launch time of Cabanne's 'plane. What would happen now? Would they leave on schedule? Would the race be called off?
The questions became academic. Two Star Service officers, a Marshal and a Space Princess, appeared, flashing badges. "Sorry, boys," the marshal said. "We need these buggies."
The FoMarsCo man tried to put up a protest, but the Sangan – himself an Imperial officer – managed to restrain him.
As the two Justice officers climbed into the cockpits, Bill asked, "You ever fly a glider before?"
"No, but I'm a fast learner. Talk me through it."
"The first part is just like an aircar... ."
Within a minute, both flyers were airborne, winging after the tiny dot that was Cap'n Morgas' stolen ultralight.
Morgas was staying low, and Sandy stayed close to the ground, too. But Wild Bill nosed his ship up into the rusty sky, approaching some pale-blue water clouds overhead.
"Your Grace," he said into his radio, "get up here. We've got to conserve fuel."
"But Morgas isn't."
"Exactly. Get up here and cut your engine. When he runs out of gas we'll have plenty to spare."
Sandy Pendragon pulled back on the stick, and grabbed a hunk of salmon sky.
THE WRECKED TOWERS of Purplost appeared on the horizon as Cap'n Morgas winged his way south. Because of the design of the Cabanne ultralight, he couldn't see his pursuers. He'd counted on the crowds to keep any spaceships from following him, and he'd stayed low to avoid the RADAR beams that might be used to track him.
He’d flown with the throttle wide open. Not having followed the race, he’d not given enough attention to details like the amount of fuel available.
He felt secure in his escape. If anyone had been after him, he'd have seen them by now, he was sure. And Purplost was now only minutes away.
Capital of the old Martian civilization, Purplost had been built for the Martians by the Qsque, the strange beings from a distant system who had, almost thirteen centuries earlier, transplanted Earthmen to this other planet, as part of an experiment. Qsquean science had pumped up atmosphere enough for survival, and optimized conditions generally, but the low mass of the sphere had doomed the experiment to failure.
Within a millennium, the atmosphere had winnowed away, leaving the last Martians fighting the clock in a desperate attempt to return to Earth. When they came as would-be conquerors, their end was sealed. By the time Earthmen in any number reached the red planet, all that remained of the old civilization was a few ghost cities and one long-abandoned but still intact Qsquean outpost.
Purplost, once seat of the Martian Emperor, was still a site of interest for scholars and tourists alike, with its winding streets, quaint but empty shoppes, and old laboratories and libraries.
It was the squiggly streets that held the interest of Cap'n Morgas this afternoon. By the time he could get to them it would be sunset, and he would be able to hide in those streets so that no one could find him. And then slipping away into the great labyrinth would be a cinch.
Easily hidden from visual searches, he would also be invisible to heat detection. Purplost is located over one of very few hot spots on the planet, where arethermal drafts from within keep the entire area warm – at least in comparison to the chilly temperatures prevalent on the red planet. But warm enough and diffused enough to confound infra-red detection.
But he might not reach those streets – the ultralight's engine abruptly began to sputter.
MORGAS SLAMMED A hand down on the console angrily. After a few gasps, the engine died out completely. The only noise was the sound of wind whistling against his wings.
But pirates learn many things, or they don't remain pirates very long. Morgas fought the natural impetus of the plane, keeping its nose up a few degrees above the artificial horizon on his indicator, and got the breeze under his wings, soaring on toward safety.
High above and a couple of miles behind him, the two Service officers sailed along, keeping Morgas in their sights.
"I think he's outta gas," Bill said.
Sandy’s voice came back over the radio. "Should we move in?"
"Not yet. I think he's heading for the city, but he might have a ship hidden out here, or something. Let's just stay on him for now."
But Morgas sailed on, straight and true for the toppled towers of old Mars, staying aloft by some pretty fancy maneuvers. After a short time Bill spoke up again.
"Now step on it, Sandy. He's about to touch down."
The engines on both pursuit planes kicked to life, and the law leaped forward.
"Flank him," Bill called, gesturing Sandy to swing to the left.
Still unaware of his twin tails, Morgas concentrated on the ground. It was coming up fast now, despite all his efforts. Rusty soil zipped past him, and it was hard to gauge his height over the dunes: The altimeter kept bobbing up and down.
Then he spotted an old fence-line, stakes rising from the ground every few feet, the cross-pieces long rotted away. But Morgas knew the distance between those stakes, and it gave his practiced eye a measure he could calculate.
He was just about to pull up short and stall out when something shot past him. Instinctively he wrenched the stick to the right to avoid a collision.
As Sandy Pendragon's borrowed ultralight swooped past Morgas's nose, the pirate's plane spun sidewise, stalled, and dropped like a rock, crumpling its right wing under it.
As Wild Bill's ship coasted overhead, the marshal bailed out, dropping the thirty or so feet to the sandy Martian dirt.
The Princess, hearing his latter-day rebel yell, turned sharply, thinking something had gone wrong.
But Bill was OK, and already dragging the dazed pirate from the wreckage. The ultralight he'd abandoned coasted to a smooth landing atop a broad sand dune a qu
arter-mile away. As Bill had hoped when he'd proposed the plan, there was no fight left in Cap'n Morgas.
Sandy fed her engine some more gas, and regained altitude.
"Thetis, do you read me?" she called.
"Loud and clear, Your Grace," came the reassuring voice of Pat Karrol. "We've just gotten the public out of the way, and we'll pick you up shortly."
Sandy swooped back, seeing Wild Bill waving the "OK" sign. Morgas was not going to be happy about this.
ESTHER CABANNE AND her son were not happy, but each was complaining about a different thing. By the time Thetis returned with the new Star Service prisoner, and towing the two borrowed ultralights, the news was all over the planet.
Because of the interference, the race was going to be delayed until the next day. Jerry Cabanne was angry because there was no way he'd be able to repair his crashed ship by then, and because no amount of yelling, threatening, or bribing seemed able to change the judges' decision.
The poor rich boy's mother was venting her anger on the viceroy, whom she had backed into a corner.
"That phony princess is a menace to honest citizens everywhere – her interference almost cost me my life! I made it very clear there was to be no police involvement in my problem!
"And worse, after nearly getting me killed, she ran off and left me when she managed to free herself! What kind of a law officer behaves in such an outrageous and unethical way?"
"Madame, please," Zucco said, barely managing to keep from stammering, "we're looking into it right now."
"Looking into what, Excellency?"
Viceroy Zucco looked up to see Sandy Pendragon, leading a procession of manacled pirates, trailed by several armed policemen.
"Your Grace, I'm afraid I shall have to question you regarding some charges made by this lady."
Sandy made a face. "I don't think that will be necessary, Excellency." She nudged Morgas in the ribs. "Tell the Viceroy what you told me on the flight in."
Morgas growled.
Planet Patrol: The Interplanetary Age (Star Service Book 1) Page 12
