_The Swoop of the Hawk_
[Illustration: _The Hawk stood there, both arms hanging easily at his
sides._]
[Sidenote: One of the spectacular exploits of Hawk Carse, greatest of
space adventurers.]
Hawk Carse came to the frontiers of space when Saturn was the frontier
planet, which was years before the swift Patrol ships brought Earth's
law and order to those vast regions. A casual glance at his slender
figure made it seem impossible that he was to rise to be the greatest
adventurer in space, that his name was to carry such deadly
connotation in later years. But on closer inspection, a number of
little things became evident: the steadiness of his light gray eyes;
the marvelously strong-fingered hands; the wiry build of his
splendidly proportioned body. Summing these things up and adding the
brilliant resourcefulness of the man, the complete ignorance of fear,
one could perhaps understand why even his blood enemy, the impassive
Ku Sui, a man otherwise devoid of every human trait, could not face
Carse unmoved in his moments of cold fury.
His name, we know, enters most histories of the period 2117-2148 A.
D., for he has at last been recognized as the one who probably did
most--unofficially, and not with the authority of the Earth
Government--to shape the raw frontiers of space, to push them outward
and to lay the foundations of the present tremendous commerce between
Earth, Vulcan, Pluto, Neptune, Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter. But, little
of his fascinating character may be gleaned from the dry words of
history; and it is Hawk Carse the adventurer, he of the spitting
ray-gun and the phenomenal draw, of the reckless space ship
maneuverings, of the queer bangs of flaxen hair that from a certain
year hid his forehead, of the score of blood feuds and the one great
feud that jarred nations in its final terrible settling--it is with
that man we are concerned here.
A number of his exploits never recorded are still among the favorite
yarns spun by lonely outlanders in the scattered trading posts of the
planets, and among them is that of his final encounter with Judd the
Kite. It shows typically the cold deadliness, the prompt repaying of a
blood debt, the nerveless daring that were the outstanding qualities
of this almost legendary figure.
It began one crisp, early morning on Iapetus, and it ended on Iapetus,
with the streaks of ray-guns searing the air; and it explains why
there are two square mounds of soil on Iapetus, eighth satellite of
Saturn.
* * * * *
Carse pioneered Iapetus and considered its product his by right of
prior exploration. One or two men had landed there before he came to
the frontiers of space and reported the satellite habitable, possessed
of gravital force only slightly under Earth's, despite its
twelve-hundred-mile diameter, and of an atmosphere merely a trifle
rarer; but they had gone no further. They had noticed the forms of
certain strange animals flitting through the satellite's jungles, but
had not investigated. It was Carse who captured one of the creatures
and saw the commercial possibilities of the pointed seven-inch horn
that grew on its head, and who named it phanti, after the now extinct
Venusian bird-mammal.
There were great herds of them, and they constituted Iapetus' highest
form of life. The space trader cut off a few of their opalescent and
green-veined horns and sent them as samples to Earth; and, upon their
being valued highly, he two months later established his ranch on
Iapetus, and thus laid the foundation for the grim business that men
sometimes call the Exploit of the Hawk and the Kite.
No doubt Carse expected trouble over the ranch. To protect the
valuable twice-yearly harvest of horn from Ku Sui's several bands of
pirates, and other semi-piratical traders who roamed space, he built a
formidable ranch-house with generators for powerful offensive rays and
a strong defensive ray-web, and manned it with six competent men.
Moreover, he came personally twice a year to transport the cargo of
horn, and let it be known throughout the frontiers that the sign of
the Hawk was on that portion of Iapetus, and that all who trespassed
would have to answer to him. This should have been, ordinarily,
enough. But there was always the sinister, brilliant Dr. Ku Sui,
plotting against him and his belongings, and reckless others to whom
the ranch might look like easy pickings. From these Carse had long
anticipated a raid on Iapetus.
* * * * *
And now he was worried. Clad as usual in a faded blue tunic, open at
the neck, soft blue trousers and old-fashioned rubber soled shoes, he
showed it by pulling occasionally at the bangs of flaxen hair that had
been trained to hang down his forehead to the thick, straw-colored
eyebrows. In his new cruiser, the _Star Devil_, he was within an
hour's time of Iapetus, which lay before the bow observation ports of
the control cabin like a giant buff-tinted orange, dark-splotched by
seas and jungles, on the third of his semi-annual voyages for the
harvest of horn. Away to the left, scintillating and flaming in the
blackness of space, whirled Saturn, his rings clear-cut and brilliant,
his hard light filling the control cabin. Carse was staring unseeingly
at the magnificent spectacle when the giant negro standing nearby at
the space-stick rumbled:
"Well, suh, Ah cain't think they's anything wrong--no, suh. They's
nobody'd _dare_ touch that ranch! No, suh--not Hawk Carse's ranch."
This was "Friday," the herculean black Earthling whom Carse had
rescued years before from one of the Venusian slave-ships, and now a
member of that strange trio of totally dissimilar comrades, the third
of whom was Master Scientist Eliot Leithgow, now absent and at work in
his secret laboratory. Friday thought the Hawk just about the greatest
man in the Solar System, and many times already had he given proof of
his devotion.
Carse looked full at him. "You're a good mechanic, Eclipse," he said,
"but in some ways very innocent. Crane hasn't replied to us for
seventy minutes. He knows we're coming and he should be on duty. That
cargo's valuable, and it's all ready and packed."
"Hmff," Friday grunted. "But who you think'd dare try an' swipe it
when we're so close? One o' Ku Sui's gang, maybe?"
"Perhaps. I haven't heard anything of Ku Sui for some time, and he's
never more dangerous than when he keeps silent," said the Hawk
thoughtfully. "But Crane might be sick. Or his radio might have broken
down temporarily. Still--"
It was then that the third man in the cabin, Harkness, the navigator,
straightened abruptly and put a sharp end to the trader's last word by
calling out:
"Radio, sir!"
* * * * *
A red dot of light was winking on a switchboard. Friday watched the
Hawk move in his quick, effortless way to it and pull a lever down,
all in the same motion, and then the negro's neck muscles corded as he
listened to the sounds that came, choking and barely intelligible,
from a loudspeaker:
"Carse--Hawk Carse--Crane speaking from the ranch. We're
besieged--pirate ship--outnumbered--can't hold out much longer. We got
most of the cargo inside here, but our generators--they're
weakening--and I'm fading, I guess, and the others that're left are
wounded. Carse--hurry--hurry...."
Five words went back into the microphone before the receiver went
dead.
"I'm coming, Crane! Hold on!"
Friday had seen the Hawk in such moments before, and he knew the
sight; but the navigator, Harkness, had not been with Carse very long,
and now he stood silent, motionless, while despite himself a shiver
ran down his spine as he stared at the tight-pressed bloodless lips
and the gray eyes, cold now as space. He started nervously when the
Hawk turned and looked him in the eye.
"I want speed," came his quiet, soft, deceptive voice. "I want that
hour's running time sliced by a third. Streak through that
atmosphere."
"Yes, suh!" answered Friday.
"And you"--to Harkness--"be very sure you get out every ounce she's
got. Tell the engineer personally."
"Full speed. Yes, sir," said the navigator, and felt relieved when
Carse turned his eyes away. For the Hawk, as always when he learned
that property had been ravaged and his friends shot down, seemed less
human than the Indrots at the far end of the frigid deeps of space he
roamed. His face was mask-like, graven, totally expressionless: blood
had been shed, and for each ounce another had to be spilled to balance
the scales. At a speaking tube that reached aft to the three other
members of the crew, he whispered: "Fighting posts. Arm and be ready
for action. Pirates are attacking ranch," and then went noiselessly to
the forward electelscope. Meanwhile Friday kept his eyes strictly on
the dials before him and held the space-stick rigid, while aft, in the
ship's other compartments, three men strapped on ray-gun belts and
wondered who was doomed to be caught in the swoop of the Hawk.
* * * * *
Carse himself wondered that. The raider so far showed as a newcomer to
the frontiers of space; he was one who as yet had never faced the
Hawk, one to whom the tales that were told of him seemed laughable, to
whom the rich consignment of horn looked like a gift. Certainly such
an open attack did not resemble Ku Sui's subtle methods, or those of
his several henchmen, pirates of space all; they, rather, struck
behind his back, and then only when the infamous Eurasian had prepared
what seemed an escape-proof trap.
"Foolish to raid when I'm so close!" he murmured as he trained the
electelscope and peered into its eye-piece. "Stupid! Unless...."
Friday, at the space-stick, mopped the trickles of sweat from his brow
and with a vast sigh shifted his bulk. The job of speeding into an
atmospheric pressure was always ticklish, and it was with some relief
that he reported "Into th' atmosphere, suh," according to routine. He
waited for the usual acknowledgment, and when it did not come repeated
his observation in a louder voice. Two full minutes of silence passed.
Then, finally, Hawk Carse turned from the electelscope, and even the
negro shivered at sight of the deadly mask that was his face.
For the ranch-house in its clearing had dimly appeared in the
electelscope just as Friday had spoken.
Carse spoke.
"More speed, if it burns us up," came his almost whispered words. "I
want much more speed."
Harkness gulped. "Yes, sir," he said, and, moistening his lips, he
returned to the engine-room. The frigid gray eyes swung back to the
sight that was revealed on Iapetus.
The long, lean shape of a rakish space ship was resting on the soil
some three hundred yards from the ranch-house, and between were the
hazy figures of six men, busily dragging as many boxes towards their
craft. The boxes contained the whole half-year's harvest of phanti
horns, and had obviously been looted from the house. The resistance
had been overcome; the pirate raid had succeeded. The trim,
gray-painted ranch-house was lifeless....
* * * * *
The Hawk switched off the electelscope. His colorless lips were
compressed very tightly. "I'll take the helm," he said curtly to
Friday. "Turn on the defensive web, and prepare all ray batteries."
"Yes, suh!" The negro's big, yellow-palmed hands worked dexterously
among the instruments to his right; then, amidships, grew a shrill
whine which keened upward in pitch. A few sparks raced by the _Star
Devil's_ after ports, quickly to disappear after they left the almost
invisible envelope of delicate bluish light that entirely wrapped her
hull.
She was making dangerous speed. The wind screamed as she streaked
through the satellite's atmosphere, and the great friction of her
passage raised her outer shell to a perilous glow. The altitude
dial's finger almost jumped from forty thousand to thirty-five.
"Ready for bow-ray salvo."
"Aye, sir!" replied Harkness, and a moment later repeated crisply:
"All ready for bow-ray salvo, sir!" His voice showed no sign of the
fear within him--fear that the _Star Devil's_ outer hull would reach
the melting point--but his lips fell apart and his face lost its
discipline when the Hawk next spoke and acted.
"Steady," came the low whisper to his ears--and he saw the controlling
space-stick being shoved down as far as it would go.