_The Hawk and the Kite_
In the deck of the control cabin, between a bank of instruments and
the starboard wall, was another man-hole that gave entrance from the
'tween hulls compartment to the cabin.
Only two men besides Carse knew of its existence. The adventurer for
good reasons of his own had it built in; and so cunningly was its
cover fitted on that its outlines were not visible.
Beneath it, now, on the three-rung ladder that led up from the lower
shell, Hawk Carse waited.
He could hear quite clearly the angry, snarling voice of Judd the
Kite, haranguing his men.
"Rinker, you go down and see what's wrong. Just because Jake and Sako
don't come back right away, you guys seem to think the ship's haunted!
Haunted! By Betelguese! A sweet bunch of white-livered cowards I've
got for a crew--"
"Ah, lay off!" growled a deep, sullen voice. "I ain't scared, but this
looks fishy to me. Something's wrong down there 'tween the hulls--damn
wrong, I tell you. We only found four skeletons, an' four, ain't the
full crew for a ship like this. There oughta to be a couple more
somewhere. Carse, blast him! he's got nine lives. How do we know he
was one of the four?"
Another spoke up, as Rinker evidently hesitated. "I say we all go down
and investigate together."
"Stow it!" thundered Judd. "They didn't get their space-suits out, did
they? Why, they hadn't a chance to escape--none of 'em. They were
killed, every one, quick! And four's plenty to work this ship. Carse
is dead, see, dead! This was one trick he didn't know--one time he
couldn't worm out. He was clever, all right, but he couldn't quite
stack up against me. I swore I'd get him and I did. He's dead!"
"Judd," said a low, clear voice.
* * * * *
The Kite whirled around. He stared. The hand-flash he was holding
dropped to the deck with a clang. His hands went limp, and his voice
was suddenly weak and dazed.
"My God--Carse! Hawk Carse!"
"Yes," a whisper answered. "Hawk Carse. And not dead."
It was a scene that might have puzzled a newcomer to the frontiers of
space. Certainly there seemed to be nothing menacing about the slender
figure that stood by the now open man-hole, both arms hanging easily
at his sides; the advantage, on the contrary, appeared to be all with
the men whom he confronted. All but one was big, and each was fully
armed with a brace of ray-guns and knives.
But, though there were four guns to one, they made no attempt to draw.
For it was the Hawk they faced, the fastest, most accurate shot in all
those millions of leagues of space, and in his two icy eyes was a
menace that filled the control cabin with fine-drawn silence.
At last Judd the Kite opened his lips and wetted them.
"Where did you come from?" he stammered.
"No matter," came the answer from the thinly smiling mouth. "Friday!"
"Yes, suh!" boomed the big black's distant voice.
Judd's three men turned their heads and saw Carse's famous satellite
step into the control cabin, a ray-gun in each capacious hand. He was
all flashing white teeth, so wide was his grin.
"Well, well!" he chuckled. "Ain't this the pleasure! Certainly am
pleased to meet old friends like this--yes, suh! Jus' drop in?"
But the Kite's head had not turned; he seemed not to hear Friday's
words; his eyes were held fascinated by Carse's. The attention of
everyone came back to the two leaders.
"Ku Sui is in back of this?" asked the Hawk.
Judd licked his lips again. He had to spar for time: to divert for a
while the vengeance he knew possessed the other's mind, so that he
might find some chance, some loop-hole.
"That's right," he began eagerly, "it was Ku Sui. I had to do this,
Carse: I hadn't any choice. He's got something on me: I had to go
through with it. Had to!"
* * * * *
The Hawk's eyes were glacial; the ghost of a smile hovered once more
around the corners of his lips.
"Go on," he said. "What was that fungus?"
"I don't know. Ku Sui developed it in his laboratory. He just gave me
a sealed cartridge of the spores with instructions to raid your ranch,
as you saw, and plant them in a drilled-out phanti horn. There was a
simple mechanism in the cartridge that allowed us to release the
spores by a radio wave from our ship. When I wanted them to grow I
simply--"
"I see. A clever scheme," Carse said. "Quite up to Ku Sui's standard.
The idea of those three men running for the jungle when I came down on
Iapetus was to insure my taking the horn cargo aboard, of course. The
raid was only incidental to your scheme to get me. And Crane, the
radio operator, was dead when I received that S.O.S. It was faked, to
bring me quickly for your schedule."
Judd stared at him. "How in hell did you know that? Damn you, Carse,
you're--"
"Where," interrupted the adventurer coldly, "is Ku Sui?"
The pirate's eyes shifted nervously. "I don't know," he muttered.
"Where," came the steady question again, "is Ku Sui?"
The other licked his lips. His fingers clenched, unclenched, gripped
tight. "I don't know!" he protested. His eyes widened as he saw the
Hawk's left hand stir slightly, and he started as he heard the
whip-like word:
"Talk!"
"Carse. I swear it! No one knows where he is. When he wants to see me
personally, he comes out of darkness--out of empty space. I don't know
whether it's done by invisibility or the fourth dimension, but one
moment his ship's not there; the next it is; I don't know where his
base is; and if he knew I'd told you what I have, he'd--"
"How do you arrange your meetings, then?"
"They're always in a different place. The next is in seven days. I
don't remember the figures: they're in the log of my ship."
Carse nodded. "All right. I believe you. And now--there are a few
accounts to be settled."
* * * * *
During the few minutes the Hawk had questioned Judd, the brigand crew
in the cabin had stood silent, their breath bated, their eyes watching
fascinated. But now they started, and shifted uneasily. They suspected
what was coming. The inexorable, seemingly inhuman adventurer went on
emotionlessly:
"Six of my men were killed on Iapetus, treacherously, without a
chance. Four more were slaughtered by the fungus. That's ten. Back up
to your men, Judd."
Judd knew all too well what that order portended. He could not move.
His cunning eyes protruded with fear as they shifted down and riveted
on the shabby holster that hung on Carse's left side. His breath came
unevenly, in short, ragged gasps through parted lips.
"Back, Judd!"
The stinging, icy force of the voice jolted him back despite his will.
One short retreating step after another he took, until at length he
was standing with his three men against the side wall of the cabin,
the dividing line between it and the engine room. Friday's guns were
still covering the pirates.
"You goin' to shoot us down in cold blood?" one of them asked
hoarsely.
The Hawk surveyed the speaker until the man shivered. Beneath their
coldness, his gray eyes were faintly contemptuous.
"No--I leave that for yellow-streaked hi-jacking rats such as you. I'm
going to give you a chance: more than a chance. Friday," he called.
"Yes, suh?"
"Do you want to come in on this?"
Without the slightest hesitation the negro answered, grinning:
"Yes, suh!"
"I thought you would. Come here alongside me, then sheathe your guns."
Friday did so. He stood in position beside his master, just in front
of the opening that led below. The four brigands were some fifteen
feet away. The two groups faced each other squarely.
"Good," whispered Carse.
* * * * *
They stood there, four men to two, deadly enemies; yet not one hand
moved toward a ray-gun. Again, an outsider would have marveled why
Judd, the numbers on his side did not draw and fire; why he waited;
why his face was pale, his eyes nervous. But he knew too well what the
least sign of a draw on his part would entail; he preferred to wait,
to receive the advantage of the cold vanity in Carse which demanded,
in gun-play, that the odds of numbers be against him. Perhaps this
time that vanity would lead the Hawk a little too far. Perhaps even
yet a loop-hole for strategy might appear.
So the Kite waited, but fear was strong within him.
"A little earlier," the Hawk's frigid voice went on, "there was some
counting. To the number five. Remember, Judd? Well, since you managed
so poorly before, perhaps you'll count again."
"You mean to count to five?"
"Yes. And on the fifth count, we draw and fire."
Judd's eyes narrowed, shifted, while thoughts clashed and meshed in
his brain. Hawk Carse smiled icily.
"Is that clear?" he asked.
Judd said after a while:
"All right."
Friday noted one of the pirates: a brawny, black-browed giant almost
as large as himself, and decided to go for him when the time came. He
whispered this to Carse; then, keeping his gaze on the man, he stood
ready.
"Begin, I'm waiting," reminded Hawk Carse.
* * * * *
The Kite crouched, drew a deep breath--but before his lips could form
the first count there was a quick, sharp stir of movement from the
brigand to his right; Carse's left hand seemed to vanish; a hiss
followed, a streak of wicked blue light. Friday grunted, not yet quite
realizing what had happened; Judd, gaped at Carse's lowering weapon,
then turned his eyes to the right--and choked out an oath.
The brawny giant by his side was standing, but his face was creased
and puzzled. One hand was at a holster; the other grasped a
gun--unfired. Accurate to an inch, between his eyebrows there had
appeared is if by magic a neatly seared, round hole.
His knees crumpled. His gun clanged to the deck. His head bowed; he
bent; he pitched forward, sprawled face downward. Then he quivered and
lay still. A burnt odor was in the air....
"I'm still waiting, Judd," came an ironic whisper.
"My God!" stammered one of the pirate chief's two remaining men. "He's
a devil. Fast as light!"
Judd's eyes had returned to the Hawk, and they still showed some of
his reaction of surprise to what had happened, when a peculiar thing
occurred. For a split second his gaze shot past Carse, took in
something, then switched back again. And when he had done so his face
showed a faint but unmistakable feeling of relief.
This was old stuff to the Hawk, but he could not afford to take
chances. Instantly he rapped:
"Look behind. Friday! Quick!"
The negro jerked his head around. He was too late. He had a glimpse of
a man standing in the man-hole behind--a glimpse of a short steel bar
that flashed to Carse's head in a vicious arc, and again to his own.
He was rocked by pain is blackness came across his vision; and
together, white man and black crumpled to the deck....