"You're joking. Why, I almost got that Martian patroller into space,
when Miss Pemberton--"
Parr sprang at him and caught him by his shoulders. "You were
Ruba--Rupert! It's only that you didn't talk plain before. What's
happened to you, man?"
Sadau hastily answered: "The degeneration force is obviated. Reversed.
All those who were beast-men are coming back, some of the later arrivals
completely normal again. Haven't you noticed a change in this big husk?"
Parr turned and looked at Ling. So that was it! Day by day, the change
had not been enough to impress him. As Ling had climbed back along his
lost evolutionary trail, Parr had thought that he himself was slipping
down....
"Don't stop and scratch your head over it, Parr," Sadau scolded him.
"It'll take a lot of explaining, and we haven't time. You said you'd
help get Miss Pemberton out of her jam. Come on."
* * * * *
It was like the television thrillers, after all, Parr reflected. But
Sadau was right on one count--Parr didn't quite fill the role of the
space-hero. He had neither the close-clipped moustache nor the gleaming
top boots. But he did have the regulation deep, unfathomable eyes and
the murderous impulse.
It was just after noon. Shanklin, as chief-king, had also set up for a
priest. In the center of the village clearing, he stood holding a sullen
and pale Varina Pemberton by one wrist, while he recited what garblings
of the marriage service he remembered. His subordinates were gathered to
leer and applaud. They did not know of the rush until it was all over
them.
Parr smote one on the side of the neck and spilled him in a squalling
heap. Sadau, Ling and Rupert overwhelmed the rest of the audience, while
Parr charged on into Shanklin. His impact interrupted the words "I take
this woman" just after the appropriate syllable "wo". As once before
with Ling, Parr dusted Shanklin's jaw with his fist, followed with a
digging jab to the solar plexus, and swung again to the jaw. Shanklin
tottered, reeled back, and Parr closed in again.
"I always knew I could lick you," Parr taunted. "Come on and fight,
bridegroom. I'll raise a knot on your head the size of a wedding cake."
Shanklin retreated another two paces, and from his girdle snatched the
Martian knife. He opened its longest blade with a snap. Varina Pemberton
screamed. Then, above the commotion of battle, sounded the flat smack of
an electro-automatic. Shanklin swore murderously, dropping his knife.
His knuckles were torn open by the grazing pellet.
And Parr, glancing in the direction whence the shot came, realized with
savage disgust that the space-hero had come after all. There stood a
gorgeous young spark in absolutely conventional space-hero costume, not
forgetting the top-boots or the close-clipped moustache. Parr moved
back, as if to allow this young demigod the center of the stage.
But Varina Pemberton was not playing the part of heroine. Instead of
rushing in and embracing, she set her slim hands on her hips. She spoke,
and her voice was acid: "It's high time you came, Captain Worrall. I did
my part of the job weeks ago."
The handsome fellow in uniform chuckled. "We weren't late, at least.
We've been hiding here for some time--saw what this fellow I shot loose
from the knife had in mind whole hours ago. But we also saw these
others," and he nodded toward Parr. "They sneaked up in such a
business-like manner, I hadn't the heart to spoil their rescue."
* * * * *
Other uniformed men--hands of the Terrestrial Space Fleet--were coming
into view from among the boughs. They, too, were armed. Ling walked
across to Parr, a struggling captive under each arm.
"What are these strangers up to, boss?" he demanded. "Say the word and
I'll wring that officer's neck. I never liked officers, anyway."
"Wait," Parr bade him. Then, to the man called Captain Worrall: "Just
what are you doing here?"
"This asteroid," replied Worrall, "is now Terrestrial territory. We're
fortifying it against the Martians. War was declared three weeks ago,
and we made rocket-tracks for this little crumb. It's an ideal base for
a flanking attack."
Parr scowled. "You're fortifying?" he repeated. "Well, you'd better shag
out of here. There's a power--not working just now, but--"
"No fear of that," Varina Pemberton told him. She was smiling.
"I can explain best by starting at the start. Recently we got a report
of what the Martians were doing out here. We realized that Earth must
take care of her own, these poor devils who were being pushed back into
animalism. Also, with war inevitable--"
"You aren't starting at the start," objected Parr. "Where do you fit
into all this? You're no soldier."
"Oh, but she is," Captain Worrall said, offering Parr a cigarette from a
platinum case. "She's a colonel of intelligence--high ranking. Wonderful
job you've done, Colonel Pemberton."
She took up the tale again: "If the reverse-evolution power could be
destroyed, this artificially habitable rock in space would be a great
prize for our navy to capture. So I took a big chance--got myself framed
to a charge of Murder on Mars, and was the first woman ever sent here. I
knew fairly accurately when war would break out, and figured I had
months to do my work in. That captured armor gave me the clue."
"All I knew was that it gave off a vibration," nodded Parr.
"Exactly. Which meant that the evolution-reverse was vibratory, too. I
confided in Sadau, and he and I pieced the rest of the riddle together.
The vibrator would be inside, where nobody would venture for fear of
jamming the gravity-core--but we ventured--"
"And shut it off!" cried Parr.
"More than that. We reversed it, started it again at top speed to cause
a recovery from the degeneration process. Clever, these Martians--they
fix it so you can shuttle to and fro in development. Already the higher
beast-men are back to normal, like Rupert there, and the others will be
all right, soon."
"You had every right to chase me off at the end of a pistol," said Parr.
"I might have gummed the works badly."
"You nearly did that anyway," Varina Pemberton accused. "Fighting,
raiding, stirring up the Martians who might have put a crimp in my plans
any moment--but, being the type you are, you couldn't do otherwise. I
recognized that when I gave you the protective armor."