"All of them. Jordan follows the ancient principle of all unprincipled
rogues. 'Dead men tell no tales.' The only reason Alison and I are
still alive is that he fears he may some day need my knowledge. And
Alison--"
The girl spoke for herself. Softly enough, but her eyes were brittle
and challenging. "Alison lives because the brutish fool fancies himself
as a Don Juan."
It was a complete giveaway that this simple statement should strike
the spark of Chip's anger more vehemently than any other. His brow
darkened, and he came to his feet with a roar.
"What! You mean that he actually dares--"
"Steady, son!" That was Salvation Smith. Age might have taken its toll
on the missionary's strength, but not his recuperative powers. The old
man seemed to have completely recovered from the effects of the beating
he had taken a short while before. There was even the thin ghost of a
smile upon his lips.
"The young lady seems to be quite capable of taking care of herself.
Our job, as I see it, is to wrest control of the _Aurora_ from Blacky
Jordan and his gang. Dr. Blaine, surely you must have some plan?"
Dr. Blaine shook his head miserably. "I fear not. I built the _Aurora_;
I know every nook and cranny of her. But it does me no good. Jordan is
complete master of the vital working parts of the asteroid. Alison and
I are virtual prisoners in this one, harmless compartment, separated
by tons of solid rock from the machine chambers. If we could regain
control of those rooms, of course--"
"Well," demanded Chip belligerently, "why can't we? There are five of
us now. Together we should be able to force our way into--"
"Into," Dr. Blaine told him morbidly, "an early grave. You
underestimate Jordan's savagery, Warren. Alison and I have lived on
sufferance only. You and your companions have continued to exist only
because you have a secret he would give much to possess. Let us make
one hostile move, and he will have no compunctions whatsoever against
destroying us all. And he has both the men and the weapons with which
to do it."
"Nevertheless," gritted Chip, "there must be _some_ way. And by the
Seven Sacred Stars--"
"Shhh!" hissed Syd warningly. "Someone outside!"
True, the hum of the elevator had sounded and ceased. Now the latch
clicked, and one of Jordan's men stared at them suspiciously from the
doorway. His eyes swept the group, singled out Chip Warren.
"You," he said. "Come along. The chief wants to see you."
V
As Dr. Blaine had said, the apartment in which he and Alison had been
isolated was far removed from the vital power-rooms of the _Aurora_.
Chip's guide prodded him surlily into the elevator, to the surface,
across a quarter mile of ore-reddened rock, then down into a similar
shaft. But this time as they descended in an elevator Chip could
hear an incessant humming murmur betraying the presence of nearby,
tremendous hypatomic motors.
Stepping from the cage he stood in a corridor upon which opened a
number of doors clearly marked POWER ROOM, STORAGE, SUPPLIES. But it
was through an unmarked doorway his captor motioned him. Chip found
himself in a huge, luxuriously appointed control-turret, at the
plot-desk of which lounged Blacky Jordan. Another man, back turned to
Chip, was studying the dial controls.
Jordan nodded to Chip's guide. "O.Q., you can beat it now. Well,
Phipps--is this the guy?"
"Phipps" turned, and at the sight of him an unforgotten flame of hatred
rekindled in Warren's heart. For the man's face was newly swathed in
bandages, but by the apish droop of his shoulders, the malignant gleam
that darted from his tiny deepset eyes, by the cicatriced twist of his
partly covered lips, Chip knew him. It was Scarface, the eavesdropper
of Xu'ul's Solarest, murderer of Johnny Haldane, the living bait by
which they had been lured into this trap.
Chip's breath panted from his lips in a tiny explosion of rage. He took
two swift paces forward, then stopped, staring into the ugly maw of
Jordan's leveled Moeller.
"Hold it, bucko," drawled Jordan. "Don't start nothin' you can't
finish. Grab a seat, there, and calm down." Then, as Chip sank
impotently into the designated chair, "There, that's better. No reason
we three can't be chummy, is there? Like bugs in a rug." He chuckled
and turned again to Phipps. "Then it _is_ him, huh?"
Scarface nodded, his voice muffled beneath layers of bandage. "It's
him, Chief. A whole mountain of ekalastron, he said. Only I didn't hear
him say where. And after that the Spacie was going to swear him in as a
deputy, and they was going to come hunting for us--"
"Yeah, I know. Only he got a sort of a surprise when he done it. Didn't
you, sailor?"
Chip said in a voice that he struggled to keep level. "The game's not
played yet, Jordan. I've still got a hand to draw to."
"Sure," grinned the pirate chieftain, "but you got yours to get, and
I've already got mine. Aces full. Now look here, bucko--" He bent
forward, and his voice assumed a wheedling tone--"They ain't no sense
in us two scrapping. We got off on the wrong foot together, that's
all's the trouble with us. You ain't got nothin' against me, and I
ain't got nothin' against you. To tell the truth, I kinda _like_ you.
You got guts. I got respect for anybody that'll stand up and swap
punches even when the deck's stacked against him. Now, you strike me as
being a right sensible guy. I've got a little proposition to make you--"
He paused, and Chip's eyes narrowed as every nerve in his body quivered
with raw dislike. But he capped the rising flood within him. It was
wisdom in this crisis to test every opening which presented itself.
"Go on," said Chip. "I'm listening."
"Good! Now, you just made the biggest discovery any man in space ever
made. A mountain of ekalastron. Right?"
"I'm not saying," parried Chip. "But if I did?"
"Oh, you _did_, bucko! Well, listen. Here's the proposition. I got a
nice little organization here. Fifty good men. Maybe they ain't the
cream o' society--" Jordan chuckled--"but they're as good fightin' men
as ever lifted gravs.
"I've also got, thanks to Doc Blaine's dopiness, the biggest, toughest,
hardest-to-lick spaceship that ever fired a jet. It can stand up
against any cruiser in the fleet. Matter of fact, the only thing that
keeps us from becomin' the most powerful pirate organization in Space
is the Patrol. The _Aurora_ could fight off one, two, maybe as much
as a half dozen of their battle ships--but you know how Spacies are.
When they get all hot and bothered about something, they don't mess
around with small-time stuff. They call out the whole damn fleet. And
I'm frank in admittin', bucko, that's why we've had to hide out so far,
concealin' ourselves in the Bog like we was just an ordinary asteroid."
"So?" said Chip.
"So how's about you and me throwin' in together? You tell me where this
here mine of ekalastron is. We'll fly out there and work it and get
enough ek to armor-plate this whole damn asteroid."
"This whole--!" Warren started. What proposition he had expected
from the outlaw he did not know, but certainly it was nothing so
magnificently fantastic as this. And yet--his brow cudgeled. Was it so
fantastic, after all? Every chemist knew that element No. 97 was one
of the most malleable of all metals. A thousand tons of it, girdling
the _Aurora_ to a thickness of only a cobweb veil, would undoubtedly
convert the asteroid into an impregnable battleship, a superdreadnaught
that could defy the combined assault of every Patrolship in the void!
* * * * *
Blacky Jordan was staring at him eagerly. "Well, how about it, bucko?
It's a good idea, ain't it?"
Chip said tentatively, "It's an--idea, all right. But how about me,
Jordan? What do _I_ get out of this?"
The burly one slapped his thigh delightedly. "Now you're beginning to
talk like a man, bucko! That's the sort of thing I like to hear. What
do you get out of this? I'll tell you. I already said I kinda like you,
didn't I? Well--I like you enough that I'd like to see you become my
Number One man. Throw in with me and you'll be the big boss around
here ... next to Blacky Jordan, o' course. Together we'll be an
unbeatable combination."
"And the others? The Blaines and Syd Palmer and Salvation?"
"The Blaines will stay with us. You never can tell when we're going
to need the old man's brains again. And the girl--well--" Jordan
grinned--"She's a bit of a hellcat, but I been workin' on her, and
she'll come around in time. I got plans for that girl, bucko. Who
knows, maybe one of these days she may listen to reason and throw in
with us? And then you and me and her will be a trio. As for Palmer--you
can do whatever you want. If he'll play ball, O.Q. If he won't, we'll
land him safe on some outpost. He don't know enough to do us any harm,
and by the time he finds his way back to civilization we'll have what
we want."
"And Salvation?"
Blacky Jordan's good humor vanished. A dark light glittered in his
eyes. "Well, now, I hope we ain't goin' to have no trouble about
that, bucko. But I got an old score to settle with Salvation Smith.
Only--only, maybe if you're willin' to be agreeable, I'll even go so
far as to meet you halfway on _that_, too. Well, what do you say?"
Chip knew what he wanted to say. The answer had trembled on his tongue
from the moment the outlaw started speaking. Only a violent effort of
will-power had kept him from surging to his feet, hurling his fist
into the pirate's face. But that way, he realized, lay madness. So far
Blacky Jordan had been astonishingly conciliatory. But Chip knew, as
did the pirate, that if this peaceful means of gaining his end were
unavailing, Jordan had at his disposal other means of learning the
secret he desired.
Chip was bolstered, too, by one bit of knowledge Blacky Jordan did not
possess: that the ekalastron mine was _already_ occupied by a strongly
armed corps of the Uranus Space Control. But it would not do to reveal
this now. Neither would it do to pledge false allegiance nor proffer
blunt refusal. The only other alternative was to stall for time. This
Chip did. He stroked his jaw thoughtfully.
"This is pretty sudden," he hesitated. "I hardly know what to say,
Jordan. Could I have a little while to think it over?"
Jordan rose from his desk with the toothy grin of one who sees his plan
already half accomplished.
"Sure, bucko! Take all the time you want. Take a half an hour if you
like. I got a few things to do, anyhow. I'll just roll along and take
care of them. You stay here and make up your mind. And, Phipps--you
stay here and keep an eye on Mr. Warren," Jordan grinned. "Not that
I don't trust you, you understand, bucko. You and me's going to be
buddies. But you might want to play double sol, or somethin'. Well--see
you later!" And with a wide anticipatory grin on his lips, the big man
lumbered from the room.
But barely had he disappeared than happened that which was most
stunning of all which had befallen Chip Warren. Phipps, with an agility
surprising in one so apishly squat, scurried across the room, and
listened until the whine of the elevator advised him the coast was
clear. Then he spun to Chip.
"Listen, Warren," he husked, "I gotta talk fast; are you for his plan
or ain't you?"
Warren stared at the man in numb astonishment. "Why, I--I--" he
faltered. "What are you getting at?"
"Because if you're for his plan _and him_," hurried Scarface, "I'm
through talking. But if you're for his plan and _against_ him, maybe
you and I can do a little private business."
"Private business?" Chip was still puzzled.
"Private business?"
"Strictly _ongtree-new_," grinned Phipps evilly, "I don't mind telling
you, Warren, I'm fed up with the way I been kicked around by Blacky
Jordan. I'm supposed to be his right hand man, but I'm one of those
right hands that never knows what the left hand's doing. I run all the
risks, like going into civilization for supplies and taking care of
that space-cop, for instance, and Jordan gets all the gravy. Not only
that, but he'd rat on me in a minute if it would put one bean in his
soup. Like he just done a few minutes ago; talking about making you
his chief partner when I've been his buddy and done his dirty work for
years.
"Well, I'm sick of it, see? And I'm pulling out. What I want to know
is--if I take care of Blacky Jordan, can you and me make a dicker like
the one he propositioned you on?"