Scavengers in Space Page 8

  The plate pulled tight against the belt. Each plate fit into a shallow excavation in the hull, fitting so snugly that the plates were all but invisible when they were in place. Tom felt himself pulled in tight as the plate gripped the belt against the metal, and the whirring of the motor stopped.

  For an instant it looked like the answer. The belt was firmly wedged. He couldn’t possibly pull loose without ripping its nylon webbing. But a moment later the motor started to whir again. The plate pushed out from the hull a few inches, then started back, again pulling in the belt.

  A good idea that just wouldn’t work. The automatic machinery on a space ship was built to perfection; nothing could be permitted to half-work. Tom realized what was happening. Unless the plate fit perfectly -in its place, the cable motor could not shut off, and presently an alarm signal would start flashing on the control panel.

  He pulled the belt loose, reluctantly. He would have to count on his boots and his hand-pads alone.

  He searched the rear hull, looking for some break in the polished metal that might serve as a toe hold. To the rear the fins flared out, supported by heavy struts. He made his way back, crouching close to the hull, and straddled one of the struts. He jammed his magnetic boots down against the hull, and wrapped his arms around the strut with all his strength.

  Clinging there, he waited.

  It wasn’t a good position. The metal of the strut was polished and slick, but it was better than trying to cling to the open hull. He tensed now, not daring to relax for fear that the blast-off acceleration would slam him when he was unprepared.

  Deep in the ship, the engines began to rumble. He felt it rather than heard it, a lowrpitched vibration that grew stronger and stronger. The Ranger would not need a great thrust to move away from the orbit ship, but if they were in a hurry, they might start out at nearly Mars-escape.

  The jets flared, and something slammed him down against the fin strut. The Ranger moved out, its engines roaring, accelerating hard. Tom felt as though he had been hit by a ton of rock. The strut seemed to press in against his chest; he could not breath. His hands were sliding, and he felt the pull on his boots. He tightened his grip desperately. This was it. He had to hang on, had to hang on. . . .

  He saw his boot on the hull surface, sliding slowly, creeping back and stretching his leg. Suddenly it broke loose; he lurched to one side, and the other boot began sliding. The ache in his arms was terrible, as though some malignant giant were tearing at him, trying to wrench him loose as he fought for his hold.

  There was one black instant when he felt he could not hold on another second. He could see the blue flame of the jet streaming behind him and the cold blackness of space beyond that. It had been a fool’s idea, he thought in despair, a million-to-one shot that he had taken, and lost. . . .

  And then the pressure stopped. His boots clanged down on the hull, and he almost lost his hand-grip. He stretched an arm, shook himself, took a great painful breath, and clung to the strut, almost sobbing, hardly daring to move.

  The ordeal was over. Somewhere, far ahead, an orbit ship was waiting for the Ranger to return. He would have to be ready for the braking thrust and the side-maneuvering thrusts, but he would manage to hold on. Crouching against the fin, he would be invisible to viewers on the orbit ship, and who would be looking for a man clinging to the outside of a scout ship?

  Tom sighed, and waited. Jupiter Equilateral would have its prisoners, all right. He wished now that he had not discarded the stunner, but those extra pounds might have made the difference between life and death during the blast-off. He was not completely unarmed though. He still had Dad’s revolver at his side.

  He smiled to himself. The pirates would” have their prisoners, indeed, but they would also have one factor to deal with that they had not counted on.

  For Greg it was a bitter, lonely trip. Johnny was there, of course, and occasionally they exchanged a word or two, but the guards were always nearby, watching, listening. And after all, what was there to say?

  They knew the ship was moving deeper into the belt. Six hours passed, eight, ten. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity in the control cabin. A sighting was recorded, the crew strapped down, and the braking jets were fired.

  They saw the huge Jupiter Equilateral orbit ship loom up in the view screen like a minor planet. Skillfully, Doc maneuvered the ship into the launching rack. The guards unstrapped the prisoners and handed them pressure suits.

  Moments later they were moving through the airlock into the main corridor of the big orbit ship. “Move along, now,” Doc was saying. “And no tricks. Be a pity to have to mark you up after all this trouble.”

  In a section in the crew’s quarters they stripped off their suits. This orbit ship was much larger than Roger Hunter’s; the gravity was almost Mars-normal, and it was comforting just to stretch and relax cramped muscles.

  As long as they didn’t think of what was ahead.

  Finally Johnny grinned and slapped Greg’s shoulder. “Cheer up,” he said. “We’ll be honored guests for a while, you can bet on that.”

  “For a while,” Greg repeated bitterly.

  “Well, we may be able to stretch that while out a bit,” Johnny said. He looked to make sure the guard wasn’t listening. “We don’t know what they think we do, but they don’t know that. We may be able to string them along for a while. Meanwhile, we might just get a break.”

  “Maybe,” Greg said. “I don’t know how, but maybe.”

  They were just slipping out of their suits when the hatchway opened. “Well, whom do we have here?” a familiar voice said. “Returning a call, you might say. And maybe this time you’ll be ready for a bit of bargaining.”

  They turned to see the heavy face and angry eyes of Merrill Tawney.

  Chapter Eight

  The Scavengers Of Space

  The casual observer might have been fooled. Tawney’s guard was down only for an instant; then the expression of cold fury and determination dropped away as though the shutter of a camera had clicked, and he was all smiles and affability. They were honored guests here, one would have thought, and this pudgy agent of the Jupiter Equilateral combine was their genial host, anxious for their welfare, eager to do anything he could for their comfort.

  But Greg had seen the mask dropped into place, and caught a momentary glimpse of the viciousness underneath. He had known people like this before, the ones who hid behind smiles, and he had always hated them. Now every instinct screamed at him to throw himself at the fat little company man, but he fought down the impulse, clenching his fists at his sides.

  Tawney was talking as he led them out into the corridor. “The trip was comfortable, I hope? Of course, those scout ships are always cramped, but you’ll find things here much more commodious.” He stopped beside a small oval shuttle car that hung from a single track overhead. “You may be surprised at the size of this ship, it’s a fully equipped city in space, really. These cars save hours of transit time.”

  He motioned them into the front seats, then climbed into the rear with the guard. The car started up, moving swiftly through a maze of corridors. They crossed from the outer level through several of the inner levels before the car slid to a halt, and Tawney ushered them through a hatchway.

  In spite of himself, Greg’s mouth fell open in amazement He had never seen such luxury in a space ship; there was hardly an apartment in all of Sun Lake City that matched the richness of the room they were standing in. It was a beautiful lounge; thick carpeting “covered the metal deck plates. There were soft chairs, pleasant, concealed lighting, paintings on the walls. A table was set at one side, and a white-coated steward hovered near by. Real Earth-side beefsteaks were sizzling on the grill. Greg suddenly remembered that they hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours and found the aroma of food tantalizing.

  Tawney smiled, nibbing his hands together. “I suppose you’ve been thinking that you’d be kept in a cell, and starved and tortured, and things like that, eh? But we do
n’t believe in doing things that way. Let’s just say you’re my guests. Some food now, and then we can talk.”

  He left them, and the guard retired to the far end of the lounge. Johnny looked at the steaks and shrugged. “We might as well eat,” he said. “No sense in starvin’ ourselves. We’re likely to be here for a long time, and if we get a chance to make a break, well need our strength.”

  They dug in. The steaks were perfect, the first real steaks that Greg had ever eaten. “What do you think Tawney has in mind?” he asked between bites. “Why all the red carpet treatment?”

  “Just enjoy it while it lasts,” Johnny advised, “but don’t get carried away. Tawney is Tawney, red carpet or no red carpet. Tawney wants somethin’ and he wants it bad. Once he gets it—” Johnny drew his finger across his throat, and took another bite of steak.

  They were finishing their second cup of coffee when Tawney returned. “Feeling better, gentlemen?”

  “You do things in a big way,” .Johnny said. “This is real coffee, made from coffee beans. Must have cost a fortune to ship it out here.”

  Tawney spread his hands. “We keep it for special occasions. Like when we have special visitors.”

  “Even when the visits aren’t voluntary,” Greg added sourly.

  “We have to be realistic,” Tawney said. “Would you have come if we invited you? Of course not. You gentlemen chose to come out to the belt in spite of my warnings. You thus made things very awkward for us, upset certain of our plans.” He looked at Greg. “We don’t ordinarily allow people to upset our plans, but now we find that we’re forced to include you in our plans, whether you happen to like the idea or not.”

  “You’re doing a lot of talking,” Greg said. “Why don’t you come to the point?”

  “I think you know the point,” Tawney said.

  “I’m pretty stupid,” Greg said. “I like to have things spelled out.”

  “Then I’ll spell it out for you.” Tawney was no longer smiling. “We happen to know that your father struck a rich lode on one of his claims.”

  “That’s interesting,” Greg said. “Did Dad tell you that?”

  “He didn’t have to. A man can’t keep a secret like that, not for very long. Ask your friend here, if you don’t believe me. And we make it our business to know what’s going on out here. We have to, in order to survive.”

  “Well, suppose you heard right. The law says that what a man finds on his own claim is his.”

  “Certainly,” Tawney said. “Nobody would think of claim jumping, these days. But when a man happens to die before he can bring in his bonanza, then it’s a question of who gets there first, wouldn’t you think?”

  “Not when the man is murdered,” Greg said hotly, “not by a long shot.”

  “But you can’t prove that your father was murdered.”

  “If I could, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Then I think we’ll stick to the law,” Tawney said, “and call it an accident.”

  “And what about my brother? Was that an accident?”

  “Ah, yes, your brother.” Tawney’s eyes hardened. “Quite a different matter, that. Sometimes Doc tends to be over- zealous in carrying out his assigned duties. I can assure you that he has been . . . disciplined.”

  “That’s not going to -help Tom very much.”

  “Unfortunately not,” Tawney said. “Your brother made a very foolish move, under the circumstances. But from a practical point of view, perhaps it’s not entirely a tragedy.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Tawney said, “you didn’t have much use for your twin brother. So now you won’t have to share your father’s legacy—”

  It was too much. With a roar Greg swung at the little fat man. The blow caught Tawney full in the jaw, jerked his head back. Greg threw his shoulder into a hard left, slamming Tawney back against the wall. The guard charged across the room, dragging them apart as Tawney blubbered and tried to cover his face. Greg dug his elbow into the guard’s stomach, twisted away and started for Tawney again. Then Johnny caught his arm and spun him around. “Stop it,” he snapped. “Use your head, boy!”

  Greg stopped, glaring at Tawney and gasping for breath. The company man picked himself up, rubbing his hand across his mouth. For a moment he trembled with rage. Then he gripped the table with one hand, forcibly regaining his control. He even managed a sickly smile. “Just like your father,” he said, “too hot-headed for your own good. But well let it pass. I brought you here to make you an offer, a very generous offer, and I’ll still make it. I’m a businessman. When I want something I bargain for it. If I have to share a profit to get it, I share the profit. All right. You know where your father’s strike is. We want it. We can’t find it, so you’ve got us over a barrel. We’re ready to bargain.”

  Greg started forward. “I wouldn’t bargain with you for—”

  “Shut up, Greg,” Johnny said.

  Greg stared at him. The big miner’s voice had cracked like a whip. He drew Merrill Tawney aside and spoke rapidly into his ear. Tawney listened, shot a venomous glance across at Greg, and finally nodded. “All right,” he said, “but I can’t wait forever.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  Tawney turned to the guard. “You have your orders,” he said. “They’re to have these quarters and the freedom of the ship, except for the outer level. They’re not to be harmed, and they’re not to be out of your sight except when they’re locked in here. Is that clear?”

  The guard nodded. Tawney looked at Johnny, and started for the door, still rubbing his jaw. “Well talk again later,” he said, and left.

  When the guard also left and the lock buzzed in the door, Johnny looked at Greg and shook his head sadly. “You just about fixed things, boy, you really did.”

  “Well, what was I supposed to do, just stand there and listen to him?” Greg turned away angrily. “What did you say to him to quiet him down so fast?”

  “I said I’d talk you into a deal with him, but I needed time,” Johnny said.

  “You’ll need time, all right,” Greg said. “If you think I’d deal with him—”

  “Of course I don’t,” Johnny said. “I just want to stay alive a while, that’s all. Look, there isn’t goin’ to be any bargainin’ with Tawney, he just doesn’t work that way. It’s heads he wins, tails we lose. Once he has what he wants we won’t last six minutes. All right. Then there’s just one thing that can keep us alive—stallin’ him. He thinks you know what he wants to know, and as long as he thinks so, he won’t touch us. We’ve got to squeeze every minute out of it that we can. We’ve got to make him think you’ll give in if he plays his cards right.”

  Greg was silent for a minute. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “Well, you’d better start thinldn’, then. As soon as Tawney tumbles to what we’re doing, things are goin’ to get pretty ugly around here, and nobody’s goin’ to help us. We’ve got to use the time we have to find some way to break for it.”

  Johnny stood up, staring around the luxurious lounge. “And if you want my opinion, it’s going to take some pretty fancy footwork to get out of here with our skins.”

  Miles across the blackness of space there was a sudden flare of blue-white light, growing from a brilliant pinpoint into an expanding fireball that lighted up the prisoners’ faces as they watched it on the view screen.

  Slowly then, the light faded. A section of the screen went telescopic, and suddenly they could see the aftermath of the explosion in sharp focus before their eyes.

  They had been watching the death of an asteroid. For over an hour the final preparations had been taking place; then, minutes before the explosion, they had seen the work crews move away from the rock on scooters, to take refuge in the near-by scout ship.

  “It’s pretty good-sized rock,” the guard told them as they waited for the blast. “Seven and four-tenths miles mean diameter, bigger than most of them. We’ve had crews working th
ere for three shifts, placing the charges just right for maximum fragmentation. Of course, we’ll still have fragments too large for processing, but we can crush them up with single charges later. Now watch this.”

  The tiny scout ship was moving back into view again as the fragments of the asteroid spun out in an expanding cloud. But now the ship was unfurling behind it a huge glittering net of magnetic wire that opened out like a gigantic spider web. The scout ship swung into a wide arc around the cloud of asteroid fragments, then moved slowly forward, drawing in the net.

  It looked ridiculously like the old pictures of Earth-side fishermen at work. Anything other than a controlled Murexide explosion would have sent the asteroid fragments spinning away in all directions at a speed so great that they could never have been corralled and salvaged. Greg could remember his father’s stories of the early days of asteroid mining, when the old-type uranium charges were used. In those days the magnetic net was spread around the rock before it was blown up; too often the charges would be too powerful, sending huge radioactive fragments ripping through the nets, and tearing scout ships to shreds in space.

  Many men had died mining in the belt in those days. Now the controlled charges exerted just the force necessary to split the rocks into fragments, and no more, but the job of netting the fragments still depended on the skill of the scout ship’s navigator-pilot team.

  They were watching such a team in action now, and Greg shook his head in grudging admiration as the pilot of the little scout darted back and forth, weaving the net around the slowly escaping fragments, drawing them in, moving again, until at last all but the tiniest bits of broken rock were engulfed in the net.