"Unless he's a friend of those killers," finished another.
The color of Barry's eyes deepened into the blue-grey of carbon steel.
"I owe explanations only to Earth Government!" he snapped. "Is that
clear?"
Murmurs rose again--angry now, and the faces of the men grew dark and
menacing. But Grey waved his long cigarette holder for silence. He was
the unquestioned leader on Mars. His company owned most of the largest
mines.
He spoke coolly: "What you say may be true, Williams, but we feel we've
a right to some answer. After all, my company has billions invested
here. And these men," his gesture took in the miners and ore-seekers,
"have their lives invested. All of _us_ are threatened by this mist."
"Fair enough," said Barry Williams. "I'll be glad to tell you, since
you're _asking_."
He told them briefly of his encounter with the mist. When he'd
finished, the taut silence in which they'd listened was snapped by
angry mutterings. This time the anger seemed directed against the
accusations of the Martian maiden, rather than against Barry.
"Those savages calling _us_ murderers!"
* * * * *
Craig Grey's voice was scornful. "Ridiculous of course. These creatures
are human only in superficial resemblance." He drew deeply through his
long holder, and blew a great cloud of smoke toward Barry. "Of course,
_you_ know that Earth laws have declared them savages, and provided
that none save humans of Earth descent can hold property on Mars, or
citizenship in the Earth state. How could we murder or rob them--since
they're not human and own nothing?"
"True--and interesting," conceded Williams. "I know too the laws were
passed on suggestion of exploring parties sent here by three big
inter-planetary combines, of which your own was the largest. That was
fifty years ago. You were at the head of your company then--excuse me
for giving your age away." Williams was speaking slowly, thinking his
way. Some of the puzzle of Mars was unfolding as he spoke, against this
background of resentful Earthmen.
"Those laws gave you and your friends control of great wealth in the
ore mines. You broke the resistance of the Martians, and used some as
cheap labor in the mines. The others had to find ore dust and sell it
to you for a song, to buy food and other things from you at your price.
And they had to avoid being shot by ore-seekers who wanted the dust."
Again the other men growled toward Barry.
"Martian lover!"
"Justice from the Crypt, eh? We'll send you back there!"
"'Tain't murder or robbery to kill savages!"
"Go running back to Earth with that phoney story."
"No!" he answered them. "I'm not leaving Mars until I finish my job.
The Bureau of Martian Affairs sent me here to see if some educational
program could be started among the Martian savages. I think it could.
These people could pass for Earth citizens in the streets of Washington
itself. As soon as I get to the bottom of the mist, and stop it, I'll
be ready to go back with my recommendation."
The men began to surge toward Barry. Apprehension, as well as anger
showed in their faces. What he suggested would mean the end of their
chances to exploit the planet and its people so freely--and of Mars as
a frontier.
"I don't think you'll get away with this, Williams," Craig Grey said
softly. "You've admitted being on the side of the Martians who are
trying to kill us!"
"I'll put the first man who raises a hand under arrest," said the other
just as softly.
"That's a bluff I'll call," snarled a big man. He was one of the
subordinates who'd stood beside the ore-king. Now he hulked forward,
hand dropping slowly toward the belt where two ray guns dangled.
"You won't be arresting anyone! Every Earthman on Mars will be after
you--just like I am!"
"I'll have to take your weapons," Barry began. To exert his
authority as a representative of Earth Government now might save the
situation--if he could make it stick.
But an ugly look, spreading across the big man's face, pulling at his
thick lips and blazing from his eyes was the answer. It was the look of
a murderer, and there was no mistaking his intention as he brought up a
ray gun.
"You can have them--this way," he sneered. The other men in the Center
scattered for cover, their faces relieved that the threat Barry
represented was to be so quickly removed.
But Earth Investigators were well trained. Barry Williams' ray crossed
the other. The big man fell, life burned out of him. Barry swung the
weapon in his hand significantly about the men.
"If this is the way you want it, there's an example of what will happen
to anyone else who tries to stop me. And don't forget, I represent the
authority of Earth Government!"
He backed toward the door, watching them warily. "It won't be wise for
the rest of you to try to follow me!"
Outside, he made for his ship at a dead run. Ray beams were splashing
into the red sand at his feet, when he entered the port. Safe behind
the apertures of the Center, the men were trying to cut him down.
* * * * *
Barry blasted his ship into the air, and watched the Center grow small
behind and below him. His lips were set in a straight, tight line,
while his mind went over his position.
Grey would fan the hostility of all the Earthmen on Mars against him.
Barry was sure from what he'd seen of the Martians that they were far
from the savages they'd been called by explorers financed by Grey and
his associates. They were an intelligent peaceful race, uneducated and
unadvanced, but intelligent.
Earth Government had been misled into oppressing them, and Grey had
profited enormously. The ore-king would stop at nothing to keep Barry
Williams from destroying the set-up. Already he'd connected Barry
with the white mist, a Martian attempt to win freedom and revenge--an
attempt that Barry must stop!
The white mist meant the killing of Earthmen, and the rebellion would
convince Earth Government that the Martians were savages. Barry
Williams wanted to save human lives--even the lives of those who were
murdering and robbing on Mars under the flimsy pretext of these laws.
And he wanted to see justice done on Mars.
These things were not very probable, though, Barry knew. Grey's clever
move had trapped him on Mars. He hadn't enough fuel in his ship to
reach Earth, nor was his radio strong enough to contact the planet.
With the Earthmen trying to kill him, he'd be unable to get supplies.
And the Martians had warned him to leave the planet--a second time the
white mist might not spare him!
Still, his only chance was to reach the Martians who were behind the
white mist. If he could convince them of his intentions--he had to
convince them! Then they might help him reach Earth; and hold off their
ominous attacks against Earthmen until he could put the situation
before the Government of Earth. If he could manage that, Barry was sure
he could save human lives and do justice on Mars!
He had to find the Martians! Barry brought his ship down low over the
red sand and started his search. He knew that hostile Earthmen, armed
to the teeth and intent on killing him, were searching also.
Their search was successful, while he still looked vainly for Martians.
Not even a nomadic wandering native was moving over the sands. And the
blazing midday of the red planet brought the end of Barry Williams'
opportunity.
"These natives know something is up," he was musing. Above him, the sun
was a ball of flame, its rays blistering, blinding through the thin
atmosphere.
It was out of this blind spot that a voice snapped across Barry's
thoughts like a whiplash: "The game's up, Williams."
He knew then that his thoughts had left him open to attack.
"You heard me, Williams."
The latter knew that cold, precise voice. It was Craig Grey. Barry
could not see the ship, but he knew the ore-king's cruiser would be
hovering high above, safely out of sight in the sun's rays. And from
that focal point of his enemies, the ether began to crackle with orders.
Other craft began to converge rapidly on the spot, very close to where
the investigator had the white mist. They ringed Barry as the mist had,
closed in. Their blazing ship rays, in the nose of each craft, formed
spokes to a wheel of which Barry Williams' ship was to be the hub.
He charged into that ring, broke it! He scattered them before him, some
of them dropping downward with blazing hulls.
But, as often as he drove them before him, Grey's cold, hard face
appeared in the visa-radio. His commands reformed the others, brought
them back to the attack.
Finally, as Barry fought off another encirclement, the space cruiser of
Craig Grey dropped unseen from above. Four red rays reached toward the
investigator's ship, closed about it like the fingers of a hand.
Barry had no chance to turn and make the prolonged ray contact it would
have taken to damage the big, heavily-armored ship. His control board
indicators flashed a bitter message in his eyes--his ship was lost! In
the visa-plate before him; was Grey's exulting face, the long cigarette
holder clamped between the thin, smiling lips. Above, like good dogs
closing for the kill, the ships were following Barry down behind the
pack-leading cruiser.