He didn't pursue the subject; they could go into that later. He said,
"What I'm interested in is what do we do now?"
"We are going to find the other three Jewels. One of them is in the
hands of your father's murderer. We do not need to worry about losing
track of that because he will follow us."
"You know who it is?"
"Yes--but you would not believe me."
"Tell me!" He stepped forward, his big hands closing as if upon a
throat.
"Our bargain," the girl reminded him. "The Jewels first--I swear we'll
not lose him."
"The other Jewels--where are they, then?"
"One of them is buried inaccessibly in a mountain on Mars. The other is
in the possession of one of three outlaws, all of whom are on Mars. I
have traced it to one of them. So that is where we are going."
"How do you know who has them?"
"That's a long story," said Firebird, "and one that has cost many years
of my life. And would have cost more without Thymar's help."
"I'd like to know more of your story about him. He never told me until
he died that he had known you."
"It can wait."
Satisfied that the controls were in order, the girl turned her
attention to the engines.
"There's trouble in the port motor," she said. "It can't be repaired
with the facilities available to us here. We'll have to take a chance
using it."
Nathan was about to protest, then changed his mind. He and his father
had gone into space so often with decrepit and half worn equipment that
it should have made no difference, but this vessel was so sleek and
perfect that danger seemed to lurk in any minor imperfection.
Nathan strapped himself into the inertia-controlling chair next to
Firebird. He studied the duplicate controls in front of him but kept
his hands off.
Firebird started the warming coils to preheat the tubes. After a moment
she adjusted the ignition controls and twisted the fuel valve.
Nathan felt as if he had been slapped suddenly with a giant pillow that
pressed him flat in the chair. The acceleration of the _Corsair_ was
greater than any he had experienced before, and his father's old ship
had never been equipped with inertia chairs.
He caught no glimpse of the edge of the cavern's maw as the ship passed
upward through it. One instant they were in the cave, the next they
were in the sky and only seconds passed until they were soaring above
the thick cloud layer of Venus.
After five minutes of such intense acceleration, the Firebird relaxed
and cut the controls to a point where they could breathe more easily.
"Why the hurry?" Nathan gasped. "Nobody is chasing us!"
Firebird made no answer. She reached towards the small panel at the
lower edge of the control board and switched on the viewing plate.
Silently, she scanned the heavens behind them and the surface of
the planet they were leaving. The focus of the plate extended and
retreated, then suddenly it concentrated upon a blunt-nosed black
vessel rising somewhere below them.
"The Black Warrior," said Firebird. "He was watching for us to leave."
* * * * *
Nathan watched the black ship for hours while Firebird guided the
_Corsair_. Steadily the strange vessel gained on them.
"We could outrun him easily," said Firebird, "if it weren't for that
bad motor. Do you know how to handle light cruiser lances?"
"My father never carried a gun on his ship in his life."
"I remember," said Firebird. "How I used to argue with him. He said
he wouldn't risk being caught by the police in an armed vessel, so he
never came aboard the _Corsair_."
"Perhaps a wiser man than his son," said Nathan.
He told himself he wanted no part of this. He was an engineer, not a
buccaneer. Yet as the black vessel approached he felt the thrill of its
challenge. The challenge of combat in the impersonal depths of space.
His father had felt that challenge--the challenge of men and of space
itself, and he had met it with his own bare hands. It was impossible
for Nathan not to feel it.
They kept their steady pace at an acceleration something more than
fifteen G's. Firebird gave Nathan brief instructions in the operation
of the weapons and controls.
A viewing screen provided Nathan with sights. Its scale automatically
corrected for the relative motions of the two vessels.
Abruptly, and without warning, the Black Warrior fired. The _Corsair's_
defensive screens caught the blast with an absorption of energy that
made the dissipators whine and grow incandescent.
"He's using high powered stuff," said Nathan. "Those screens can't take
much of that."
"They weren't meant to. The _Corsair's_ main defense is her speed.
There wasn't room for heavy screens. This time our defense has to be
better shooting. Watch this."
As she spoke, she caught the enemy ship dead in the sights and
depressed the firing button. A cloud of bright vapor seemed to envelope
the black hull. Then all was as before.
"He's got our screens beat," said Nathan. "We'll never get through
them."
Firebird smiled. "That's the first time that's been said in the
_Corsair_. I hope your pessimism doesn't jinx us."
The black ship was swinging back, maneuvering closer.
"Hang on!" Firebird exclaimed. She flung the _Corsair_ into a tight
turn and held it.
Simultaneously, she fired the four big lances in the stern and left a
trail of flame balls that made it impossible for the enemy to follow
in their wake. Then, forcing the ship into a close spiral, she nosed
towards the black ship and fired the four forward lances together.
Nathan watched, his hands clenched to knuckle whiteness on the control
panel, as the four flames combined and enveloped the enemy. This time
the Black Warrior's screens flamed lividly. The big ship heeled crazily
away, twisting under the forces unleashed upon it.
But the black ship was vicious in its death agonies. Nathan saw its
beams lash out and yelled to Firebird, "Don't cross his stern!"
Firebird saw her mistake. Both of them twisted at the dual controls to
swing the _Corsair_ away from that cone of destruction into which it
was plunging.
It was too late. They swept across the stern of the Black Warrior which
was blasting with all it had. The _Corsair's_ screen lit momentarily.
Then the dissipators exploded in a crushing blast in the depths of the
ship.
The interior of the control room came alive with flame. Firebird flung
her hands before her face and her silver helmet was encased in a halo
of fire.
What protected him, Nathan never knew, but he seemed to be just outside
the sphere of burning destruction that burst through the walls of the
control room in a hundred million pin pricks of flame. For an eternity
he seemed frozen there watching the flame creeping over the slim form
of Firebird--watching it burn and smother her.
Automatic cells closed the innumerable pin pricks made in the hull by
the entering ions of fire. The control panel was blackened and burned.
Then the flame-points faded out.
His hypnosis induced by the flame could not have lasted more than a
fraction of a second, Nathan knew. But when he leaped out of the chair
towards Firebird, he shuddered.
The bronze and pink of her flesh was burned to blackness.
* * * * *
It was impossible, he told himself numbly. This couldn't be the end of
the storied Firebird. But it was. That charred corpse could never hold
life again.
A poignant pain of sorrow filled him as he looked upon the figure and
remembered the beauty of Firebird. He felt lost, and all the supreme
purpose in their flight to Mars had ceased.
His mind drifted back to the scene in the cave when he had
witnessed his father's death. He recalled the words his father had
spoken--"You'll never rest until you have found all Seven of the
Jewels--or death."
That's the way it had been with Thymar Ormondy. That's the way it had
been with Firebird. All they had found was death.
Then, with a shock of horror, Nathan realized that was the way it would
be with him, too. His father's words were true. He would never rest
until he had found the secret of those evil Jewels or suffered the same
fate that had befallen all the other spacemen who'd given their lives
in that vain search.
But he'd find those Jewels, he knew. And someday he'd know the secret
of the beautiful, the fantastic Firebird.
He wondered if his father's murder had been avenged with the death of
Firebird. And he knew that he would never be sure as long as he lived.
Nathan cut the acceleration of the ship, and then bent over to unfasten
the straps that held her in the inertia chair. Tenderly he picked up
the light body that had held the strong will of Firebird.
He took a step towards the passage leading to the airlocks. And then he
stopped in horror. The blackened lips of Firebird moved.
There was no sound. Only the ghostly movement of those lips to show
that Firebird lived.
This was worse than death, Nathan thought. But she could not live long.
He carried her to her own stateroom and laid her on the bed. He bent
down and heard the faint beating of her heart.
From a cabinet he obtained salves and drugs to ease the pain when and
if she regained consciousness. Even as he finished she began to stir.
She moved as if in tremendous pain, and facial expression was
impossible for her. Her lips moved again. But there was no sound.
If she should live, he knew he ought to head for Earth where the only
adequate medical facilities were. But it was a long journey to the
other side of the sun this time of year. The defunct motor would make
it even longer. It seemed impossible that she could survive the trip.
The lips of Firebird were still moving, and now Nathan caught the trace
of a word. He bent closer. She repeated the same sound over and over
again.
"Luline--Luline--" was the word she breathed.
It made no sense to him. He wondered if the name were that of some
unknown relative--or if she were merely delirious.
"Luline--Luline--take me to Luline--"