IV

Vanning sped after the others, who had waited for him. After that it

was a desperate hare-and-hounds chase, with Lysla leading them through

the labyrinth of the city, her slender legs flying.

"You okay?" Vanning gasped as he ran shoulder to shoulder with the girl

for a moment.

Her white teeth were fixed in her lower lip. "I ... I shot at that

Swamja's eyes. Blinded him. It's the only way ... _ugh_!"

"Where now?" Hobbs panted, his white hair rippling with the wind of his

racing. Sanderson echoed the question.

"Lysla? Can we--"

"I don't know. We've been heading north. Never been there before. Can't

go south--gates are always guarded."

Hobbs panted, "There are only two ways out. The way we came

in--guarded, eh?--and another gate at the north."

"We'll try it," Vanning said. "Unless we can get to that space-ship--"

Zeeth wriggled free. "Put me down. I'm all right now. The

space-ship--that's guarded too. But there aren't any soldiers at the

north gate. I don't know why."

Through the city a rising tumult was growing. Lights were blazing here

and there, but the party kept to the shadows. Twice they flattened

themselves against walls as Swamja hurried past. Luck was with them;

but how long it would last there was no way of knowing.

Suddenly a great voice boomed out, carrying to every corner of the

city. It seemed to come from the dome high above.

"Attention! No slaves will be permitted on the streets unless

accompanied by a Swamja master! No quarter is to be given to the

fugitives who blinded a guard! Capture them alive if possible--they

must serve as an example. But show them no quarter!"

Lysla's face had paled. Vanning glanced at her, but said nothing.

Things were bad enough as they were. Only Sanderson chuckled

sardonically.

"Nice going, Vanning. How about Callahan now?"

The detective grunted. Zeeth panted, "I would--have preferred

a--peaceful death. I do not--like torture."

Vanning felt a pang of sympathy for the fat little native. But he

couldn't help him. Escape was the only chance.

"Here," Lysla gasped, pausing in the shadow of a tall building. "These

outer houses are all deserted. There's the gate."

Across a dim expanse of bare soil it loomed, a wall of metal rising

high above their heads. Vanning stared.

"No guards. Maybe it's locked. Still ... I'm going out there. If there

are any Swamja, they'll jump me. Then run like hell. Don't try to help."

Without waiting for an answer he sprinted across the clearing. At the

door he paused, staring around. Nothing stirred. He heard nothing but

the distant tumult from within the city. Looking back, he could see the

faint elfin-lights glowing here and there, and the shining tube rising

to the dome--the tube that was pouring out the North-Fever virus into

the atmosphere of tortured, enslaved Venus.

And these were the gods of Venus, Vanning thought bitterly. Devils,

rather!

He turned to the door. The locks were in plain sight, and yielded after

a minute or two to his trained hands. The door swung open automatically.

Beyond was an empty, lighted tunnel, stretching bare and silent for

perhaps fifty yards. At its end was another door.

Vanning held up his hand. "Wait a bit!" he called softly. "I'll open

the other one. Then come running!"

"Right!" Sanderson's voice called back.

An eternity later the second door swung open. Vanning gave the signal,

and heard the thud of racing feet. He didn't turn. He was staring out

across the threshold, a sick hopelessness tugging at his stomach.

* * * * *

The door to freedom had opened--mockingly. Ahead of him was the floor

of a canyon, widening as it ran on. But the solid ground existed for

only a quarter of a mile beyond the threshold.

Beyond that was flame.

Red, crawling fire carpeted the valley from unscalable wall to granite

scarp. Lava, restless, seething, boiled hotly down the slope, reddening

the low-hanging fog into scarlet, twisting veils. Nothing alive could

pass that terrible barrier. That was obvious.

Zeeth said softly, "It will be a quicker death than the Swamja will

give us."

"No!" Vanning's response was instinctive. "Damned if I'll go out that

way. Or let--" He stopped, glancing at Lysla. Her blue eyes were

curiously calm.

"The cliffs?" she suggested.

Vanning scanned them. "No use. They can't be climbed. No wonder the

Swamja left this door unguarded!"

"Wonder why they had it in the first place?" Hobbs asked.

"Maybe there was a way out here once. Then the lava burst through ...

I've seen lava pits like this on Venus," Sanderson grunted. "They're

pure hell. This isn't an exit--except for a salamander."

"Then there's no way?" Lysla asked.

Vanning's jaw set. "There's a way. A crazy way--but I can't see any

other, unless we can get out by the south gate."

"Impossible," Hobbs said flatly.

"Yeah. They'll have plenty of guards there now ... I mean the

space-ship."

There was a momentary silence. Zeeth shook his head.

"No ship can live in the air of Venus."

"I said it was a crazy way. But we might get through. We just might.

And it's the only chance we have."

Sanderson scratched his red head. "I'm for it. I don't want to be

skinned alive ... I'm with you, Vanning. You a pilot?"

"Yeah."

"You'll have to be the best damned pilot in the System to get us

through alive."

Lysla said, "Okay. What are we waiting for?" An indomitable grin

flashed in her grimy, lovely face.

"Good girl," Hobbs encouraged. "We'd better get out of here, anyway.

Back to the city."

They returned through the valve, without troubling to close the doors.

"The Swamja might think we tried to get through the lava," Vanning

explained. "We need all the false trails we can lay. Now--we'd better

hide out for a bit till the riot dies down."

"Good idea," Sanderson nodded.

"These outer buildings are deserted--I told you that. We can find a

hiding-place--"

Lysla led them into one of the structures, and into a room below the

level of the street. "They'll search, but it'll take a while. Now I

suppose we just wait."

Since there were no windows, the light Lysla turned on would not

attract attention. Nevertheless, Vanning subconsciously felt the urge

to remain in darkness.

He grinned mirthlessly. "I'm beginning to know how you feel, Callahan.

Being a fugitive must be pretty tough."

Nobody answered.

The silence ran on and on interminably. Finally Sanderson broke it.

"We forgot one thing. No slaves are allowed on the streets tonight

without a Swamja along."

"I didn't forget," Lysla said in a low voice. "There wasn't any other

way."

"But we haven't a chance in the world to get through."

"I know that, too," the girl whispered. "But--" Abruptly she collapsed

in a heap, her auburn curls shrouding her face. Under the red tunic her

slim shoulders shook convulsively.

Sanderson took a deep breath. A wry smile twisted his mouth.

"Okay, Vanning," he said. "Let's have that make-up kit."

* * * * *

The detective stared. Curiously, he felt no exultation. Instead, there

was a sick depression at the thought that Sanderson--the man who had

fought at his side--was Callahan.

"I don't--"

Sanderson--or Callahan--shrugged impatiently. "Let's have it. This is

the only way left. I wouldn't have given myself away if it hadn't been

necessary. You'd never have suspected me ... let's have it!"

Silently Vanning handed over the make-up kit. Lysla had lifted her

head to watch Callahan out of wondering eyes. Hobbs was chewing his

lip, scowling in amazement. Zeeth was the only one who did not look

surprised.

But even he lost his impassivity when Callahan began to use the make-up

kit. It was a Pandora's box, and it seemed incredible that a complete

disguise could issue from that small container. And yet--

Callahan used the polished back of it as a mirror. He sent Lysla for

water and containers, easily procurable elsewhere in the building, and

mixed a greenish paste which he applied to his skin. Tiny wire gadgets

expanded his mouth to a gaping slit. Artificial tissue built up his

face till his nose had vanished. _Isoflex_ was cut and moulded into

duplicates of the Swamja's bulging, glassy eyes. Callahan's fingers

flew. He mixed, painted, worked unerringly. He even altered the color

of his garments by dousing them in a dye-solution, till they had lost

the betraying red tint that betokened a slave.

In the end--a Swamja stood facing Vanning!

"All right," Callahan said tiredly. "I'll pass--if we keep out of

bright lights. Now go out and help Lysla do guard duty. I'm going to

disguise you all. That'll help."

Vanning didn't move as the others left. Callahan took an oilskin packet

from his belt and held it out. "Here's the treaty. I suppose you came

after that."

The detective opened the bundle and checked its contents. He nodded. It

was the vital treaty, which would have caused revolution on Callisto.

Slowly Vanning tore it into tiny shreds, his eyes on Callahan. It was

difficult, somehow, for him to find words.

The other man shrugged. "That's that. And I suppose you'll be taking me

back to Earth--if we get out of this alive."

"Yeah," Vanning said tonelessly.

"Okay." Callahan's voice was tired. "Let's go. We haven't time to

disguise everybody--that was just an excuse to give you the treaty. A

private matter--"

He shuffled to the door, with the lumbering tread of the Swamja, and

Vanning followed close at his heels.

The others were waiting.

Vanning said, "Okay. Let's start. No time to disguise ourselves. Stay

behind--"

* * * * *

In a close group the five moved along the avenue, Callahan in the lead.

The outlaw's disguise was almost perfect, but nevertheless he did not

trust to it entirely. When possible, he moved along dimly-lighted

streets, the four others keeping close to his heels. Once a patrol of

Swamja guards passed, but at a distance.

"I'm worried," Callahan whispered to Vanning. "Those creatures

have--different senses from ours. I've a hunch they communicate partly

by telepathy. If they try that on me--"

"Hurry," the detective urged, with a sidewise glance at Lysla. "And for

God's sake don't get lost."

"I won't. I'm heading for the left of the tube-tower. That's right,

isn't it?"