A dragging eternity of silence echoed in the tiny cabin. Jarl's
knife-hand fell. He groped for words that would not come.
Coolly, the girl slid out from under the bunk and, supplely graceful,
rose to her feet. Ignoring Jarl, she straightened the sleekly-styled
blue Federation tunic that accented rather than concealed the smooth
curves of her slim young body. When she looked up, her grey eyes were
mocking, half-disdainful. "What, raider? Have you never seen a woman,
that you must stare so at me?"
"You--? A woman?" Jarl spat. "Your own sex would disown you! You're
more mad _ban_ than human!" He clenched his fist. "By H'sana's virgins.
I should kill you!"
Ylana tossed her head--uncringing, defiant. The golden hair rippled.
"Is that your raider's way, then? To kill the one who gives you life?"
"Who gives me life--?" Jarl cursed. He touched his lacerated face.
"You've given me scars only!"
"Is your beauty such that wounds will mar it?" The girl's lips twisted
scornfully. "I thought you'd find my _skrii_ worth a few cuts, a little
pain, if it would buy you back your freedom."
"The _skrii_--? The knife?" Jarl choked. "You mean--it was you who gave
it, not the _Malya_--?"
"Who else?" she shrugged, and her contempt bit like the telonium
blade's own razor edge. "Did you think I'd shame myself, beating a
prisoner before my father's men, without reason?"
Jarl rocked. "But why--?"
Once more, Ylana's slim shoulders lifted. She smoothed her hair, with
elaborate deliberation. "You were too closely guarded for me to reach
you in your cell. But it came to me that if I made a show of hate, I
could trick my father into bringing you to the great hall so I could
confront you before all, at the banquet. The beating--it was the only
way I could devise to pass the _skrii_ on to you."
Jarl studied her. But her eyes were clear, her smooth face guileless.
The shadow of a smile played about her mouth.
He frowned and gestured helplessly. "Does not even a woman need some
reason....?"
"I had a reason," she said, and of a sudden she was no longer smiling.
"I had so great a reason...."
Abruptly, half-turning, she broke off. Her eyes left Jarl's, and he
saw that her hands had tightened to white-knuckled fists. Her breasts
rose and fell too fast beneath the tunic.
He waited, not speaking.
Still looking away, her voice the barest whisper, she said, "I learned
the truth at last, Jarl Corvett...."
"The truth--?"
"About freedom, and the Federation as a partnership of plunder. About
my father, and that renegade _chitza_ Wassreck." Her voice broke. Her
eyes came back; met Jarl's. "Raider, how can I tell you? Wassreck has
betrayed you!"
"Betrayed me--?" Jarl went rigid. In two quick steps he was beside
her--gripping her chin; staring down into her eyes. "Not Wassreck--!"
"Yes, Wassreck!" Her words came tumbling forth in a rush, raw and
defiant. "He was not captured, Jarl Corvett! He surrendered!"
"You lie!"
"No! Of his own free will, he sent a secret message to my father! He
had a new weapon, he said--a projector that would break your raiders'
power forever. He offered to give it to the Federation, if in exchange
they'd lift the brand of outlaw from him and award him a post of proper
honor."
* * * * *
New fury gripped Jarl Corvett. "You lie!" he lashed again. "You lie in
your teeth, you she-_quirst_! This is some sneaking scheme, a filthy
trick to match the one you played back there in the banquet hall--"
"No, no...." The girl's voice choked with pain. Tears spilled down her
cheeks. "My jaw--you'll break it--"
Jarl let go her chin.
White patches from his gripping fingers marked her face. For an
instant, shame flooded through him. Yet, somehow, in the tension of the
moment, it only added to his fury. Savagely, he turned away and paced
the cabin. "Curse you, Ylana!"
She looked away. The grey eyes were dull, her face deep-shadowed. "I
know, Jarl Corvett. You still hate me. You wonder why I should do this
thing--give you my _skrii_, tell you all I've told, hide here on my
father's carrier so that you would take me with you...." Her voice
broke. The tears coursed faster. "All my life, my father's talked of
duty. But now, with this new weapon in his grasp, he would keep it
secret till he can sweep the asteroids clean for the wealth that's
waiting to be seized. He talks of perquisites of office, claims it as
his due for his years of service...."
Chill, narrow-eyed, Jarl weighed her words. "So, now, you'd turn
against him?"
She hid her face. Her voice came muffled. "It was more than I could
stand, Jarl Corvett--that you should die for loyalty, while my father
loots the Belt, and Wassreck basks in honor. Now,"--she raised her
head, red lips aquiver--"now, at least, I've warned you. You can flee
somewhere--perhaps to the dark worlds beyond Pluto...."
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps--? What else is there for you to do?"
Tight-jawed, Jarl slapped his hands against his hips. "I can still go
on to the outlaw worlds. My ship can still ramp at Ceresta."
"Ceresta--?" The eager light faded from her face. She drew back,
staring. "But why, Jarl Corvett? Don't you understand what I've just
told you? The raider worlds are doomed!"
"So you claim," Jarl nodded. "But Wassreck proved himself to me at
Horla. Do you think I'd forsake him now, on your word only?" Grimly,
again, he paced the tiny cabin. "No, golden Ylana! You--you're still
_rey_ Gundre's daughter!"
Her hand came to her throat. "You mean--?"
Rock-faced, he towered over her, fighting down all impulses to
gentleness, to mercy. "I mean that whether you tell the truth or not,
your father's still the high commissioner. How can I trust you?"
He could see the pulse beat in her temple. "Then ... it means nothing
to you that I hid aboard the carrier, here, to warn you? I pledged my
life--"
He nodded curtly. "Yes. You pledged your life. And now it's forfeit."
Turning on his heel, he strode to the door and flung it open. "Ungo!"
The Jovian turned from the viziscreen. "What, Jarl?"
"Come here! We've got our hostage!"
"Our hostage--?" Big Ungo lumbered to the cabin's door, then stopped
short, gaping. "Jarl--! The woman--!"
"Yes, the woman! Ylana, the commissioner's own daughter!" Even as he
said it, there was a sickness in Jarl Corvett. But he put false triumph
into his voice to cover the things he felt. "She came of her own free
will, old comrade, with a fool's wild tale that Wassreck had betrayed
us!"
* * * * *
The girl stood rigid. Her mouth, her throat, were working. Then
furiously, she stumbled forward and ran to him. Her fists beat a
drum-roll against his chest. "You _chitza_--!" Sobbing, she broke off;
turned to face Ungo and the staring crewmen. "A fool's tale, he calls
it! He'd go on to Ceresta!" She choked. "Must all of us die for this
one madman? I tell you, your sainted Wassreck has surrendered and given
the Federation his newest, most deadly weapon! I came to warn you, so
that you could flee to outer space--"
Jarl caught her arm. Sharply, he twisted. "Enough, you she-_quirst_!
Even if you believe you tell the truth, you're more the fool to think
so!"
Wincing, doubled with pain, she twisted. "What do you mean?"
Jarl laughed, and the sound came out less mirth than anguish. "Did you
forget that Wassreck's own daughter, Sais, is at Ceresta? Would he cut
loose your father's Federation fleet, arm his deadliest foe with a new
weapon, knowing that Sais and the raiders would die together?"
The girl's face paled. "No--! No, it can't be--"
"It can't be, but it is. Sais came to me there, to beg me to try to
save her father!"
Ylana swayed. Her lovely face was a mirror of shock. Helpless,
grey eyes tear-brimming, she twisted in mute appeal to the other
raiders.
Ungo said: "It's true, woman. I was there with him."
"But it can't be...." The words came out almost a whimper.
Across the room, the viziscreen's communicator bell rang shrilly.
Jarl let the girl's arm fall. Muscles stiff, belly tight with tension,
he strode to the screen and spun the dials swiftly to the cross shown
on the communicator unit.
A room took form upon the screen, a bleak, bare, metal room where
blue-uniformed Federation crewmen moved to and fro.
Ungo clipped: "The screen-room--! The screen-room of Gundre's own fleet
flagship, down on Vesta!"
Mute, Jarl Corvett nodded; focussed.
* * * * *
Now a new figure appeared before the screen ... the iron-backed,
handsome figure of High Commissioner _rey_ Gundre. Deep lines etched
his lean face. His hair was mussed, his tunic-collar open. But he stood
erect, and his eyes were cold as Pluto's ice-things.
His voice came, harsh and savage: "You _starbos_! If you've laid one
finger on my daughter, I swear by every god from here to Arcturus that
you'll die by inches!"
A spark of quick admiration touched Jarl Corvett; and with it came
flooding a feeling that was almost pity.
But he held his face cold, and twisted his lips in a mocking, mirthless
smile. "Brave talk, Commissioner!" And then: "You can have her back,
you know ... in exchange for _Ktar_ Wassreck!"
_rey_ Gundre's mouth twisted. "You _chitza_! You know he's gone!"
"Then get him back."
"From the _slan_-chambers, the Venus headquarters?" _rey_ Gundre cursed.
"From hell, if need be!" Jarl took a quick half-step forward; stood
with hands on hips, feet wide apart, in fierce, cold-eyed defiance. He
let his voice ring: "The choice is yours, Commissioner! How much do you
love her? Take your pick now! It's her, or _Ktar_ Wassreck!"
The older man brought up a fist that shook with fury. His face worked
in a twitching spasm. "I'll blast you, Corvett! By the gods, I'll blast
you--!"
"Blast, then," Jarl shrugged. "Blast, and be damned! But
remember--your daughter's with us!"
Things happened to the other's face, then ... things that were not good
to see. The cheeks sagged, and the mouth went limp, and the eyes' fire
dulled to coals of pain. Of a sudden _rey_ Gundre was no longer the
high commissioner, but only a shriveled husk of a man all at once grown
old beyond his years.
He swayed, then turned, as if he had forgotten Jarl and the raiders.
"Atak, what can I do--?" It was a plea, a supplication.
His _Malya_ aide moved into view beside him on the screen. The dark,
rough-hewn face had the set of granite. "Corvett...."
Jarl forgot his pity. Sudden needles of tension pricked at his neck.
"Yes."
"Tell me, raider--have you heard of _Ktar_ Wassreck's new projector?"
"Yes."
"And that we've already set it up--that this moment it's geared for
action?"
Woodenly, Jarl nodded.
The _Malya's_ eyes grew black as the void. "Then know another thing.
Jarl Corvett! Know that we've plotted your course as you ranged off
from Vesta."
Chill tendrils brushed Jarl's spine. But he held his face blank,
without emotion. "And so--?"
"So you, too, have a choice to make, raider--the choice between coming
back, or trying to cross the void in a short-flight carrier."
* * * * *
Jarl shrugged and forced the thin vestige of a smile. "A good threat,
_Malya_. It might break me--if I believed it."
"But you do not?"
"No projector has the range to reach my ship from Vesta."
"More power lies in cosmic dust than you can dream of, raider." Atak's
eyes were bleak, his dark face set in a mask of menace. "You've made
your choice, Corvett! Now set your cross for your own ship--and live
with the decision!"
The viziscreen went blank.
"Jarl ..." whispered Big Ungo. "Quick, Jarl, get a cross on the ship!"
The crewmen's voices were muttered echoes.
With an effort, Jarl kept his movements casual. Wordless, he spun the
dials.
The _Ghost's_ looming bulk took form, drifting through the emptiness of
space.
In the stillness, Atak's voice blared through the audio unit. "Are you
ready, raider? Are you watching?"
Jarl cursed him.
The _Malya_ laughed harshly. "I press a button...."
Numb, stiff with tension, Jarl stared at the screen, hardly conscious
of the crewmen crowding round him.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, before his very eyes, the _Ghost_ began to glow.
It came slowly, at first--the faintest touch of pale phosphorescence.
But with every heartbeat, it shone brighter. In seconds the hull was
weirdly agleam as with some strange, penetrating light.
Then the ship rocked wildly. He could see the plates begin to buckle.
"No--!" screamed a crewman. "No! My brother--!"
Wallowing, the _Ghost_ flamed bright as a _thes_-wood torch. Proton
cannon streamed blazing, aimless death. The hull began to cave, then
burst asunder. Like an _eidel_-bomb exploding, it tore apart in
great, flaring sections that blasted out through space, beyond the
viziscreen's frame edges.
Slowly, the weird light faded; died. The blackness of the void closed
in.
Like men paralyzed, the raiders stared unspeaking into the awful
emptiness where short moments before the _Ghost_ had drifted.
It came to Jarl Corvett that he was trembling. Numb-fingered, he
reached out and snapped off the viziscreen.
The sound of the switch triggered loose the tension. At his elbow,
Ylana burst into hysterical, wildly-triumphant laughter. "You see--?
Will you believe me now, when I tell you what fate awaits you?"
Pivoting, Jarl slapped her across the mouth with all his might.
She crashed to the floor against the carrier's farthest wall; lay there
in a crumpled, moaning heap.
The crewmen fell back a step, all eyes on Jarl. He could not read their
stony faces.
"Jarl...." Ungo's voice was shaking. "Jarl, you saw it--?"
The others' words were sullen echoes.
* * * * *
Jarl moved away from them a fraction, till his back was against the
viziscreen. He let his hand hang close to his ray-gun.
He said: "We're wasting time. Even in this carrier, we still can make
Ceresta."
They stared at him, all of them--Ungo, Ylana, the three hard-eyed
crewmen. Then, suddenly, a _Chonya_ blurted, "You're mad, Jarl! What
chance would we have against that projector?"
"You can forget the projector." Jarl jerked his head in the direction
of Ylana. "As long as she's aboard, they won't dare use it."
"But across the void...." The raiders exchanged fearful glances.
"Would you rather die on Venus?"
Big Ungo shifted. "But Ceresta, Jarl--it's too far to go. There are
other places nearer, safer."
"And the raider fleet--?" In spite of himself, Jarl's voice was bitter.
"The fleet--?"
"How long do you think the Federation will wait to strike, now that
they've got this new projector?" Jarl laughed, harsh and curt. "By now,
the armorers will be fitting them into every ship. Tomorrow they'll be
blasting down on Ceres."
He could see new fear come alive in the others' eyes. It put iron in
him.
He lashed out: "Are your own necks all that you can think of? Does it
mean nothing to you that good friends will die and, with them, all
freedom?--That the outlaw worlds at last will be forced to bow their
necks to the yoke of the Federation?"
The others' eyes fell. The raiders looked away and shifted.
Jarl said: "That's one of the reasons why we're going to Ceresta. With
_rey_ Gundre's daughter there, the Federation fleet will hold off
striking."
Big Ungo looked up, still half-sullen. "You said that was one reason.
What others are there?"
A knot drew tight in Jarl Corvett's belly. "We came to Vesta to save
_Ktar_ Wassreck. Now they claim he has betrayed us."
"But what--?"
"Sais is at Ceresta." The knot drew tighter. "If it's true, if Wassreck
has gone over, then we'll need her for a hostage."
Again the silence echoed.
Then, suddenly, the _Chonya_ crewman cried, "To hell with that! You
don't give a _filan_ for Ceresta!" His voice went raw with angry
passion. "We know what you want! It's Sais you're after--not as a
hostage, but a woman!"
Face contorted, he clawed for his blaster.
Jarl whipped up his ray-gun--twisting, firing.
The _Chonya_ crashed back, dead.
Hate seethed in Jarl Corvett, a boiling, red-hazed murder-fury. He
shook in a spasm of unbridled passion.
"You _chitzas_!" he shouted. "I'll kill you all--even you, Ungo--"
The great Jovian's face twitched. But there was no fear in it. Bleakly,
he lumbered forward, towering. His deep voice rasped: "Kill ahead,
Jarl. Any time you want to." His massive shoulders seemed to draw
together. "I'm with you now, Jarl. I've always been. But I'll speak my
mind when I think I need to--to you, or the devil!"
Jarl's tide of fury ebbed and died. The ray-gun dropped to his side,
and of a sudden he was shaking. "Ungo...."
"I know, Jarl. It doesn't matter." Ungo's taloned hand was like a
steadying pillar. "Go ahead. Give your orders."
Numb, sick, Jarl Corvett slowly straightened, and breathed deep.
He said, "Our course is still Ceresta!"