"Same way you did--I struck a guard."
"No!" marveled Luke. "Mean to tell me you----"
"I had a reason to get in here," Fuller broke in mildly.
"You--you _wanted_ to get in?" Luke was incredulous.
"I did."
"My God, you ain't crazy, are you--wantin' to get yourself killed off
quicker?"
* * * * *
"No, that isn't it," Fuller explained patiently. "I've a plan to escape
and only by taking the chance of spending some time here could I obtain
access to the necessary materials. Fenton, I'm a scientist and I
know----"
"Escape!" Luke snorted. "You _are_ crazy. Where you goin' to go?"
"Listen, Fenton." The other dropped his voice. "I'm not doing this
blindly; I have friends outside. And you can help me. You can get away
yourself, alive. I called you a fool and by that I meant that you have
relied too much on brute force in your lifetime and had not sense enough
to realize that this brought only trouble. Combine your brawn with my
brains, now, and do as I say--if you will I promise you freedom. Will
you do it, or do you want to keep on being a fool?"
Luke bristled, but the earnestness of that steady gaze served to check
his rising temper. "I still think you're nuts," he growled, "but hell, I
ain't fool enough to pass up any kind of chance of gettin' outa here.
Gimme the dope."
Fuller coughed slightly and a fleck of red-tinged foam appeared at his
lips. "It'll have to be to-day," he whispered. "One more day in this
place and it'll be too late for me."
X.C.! Luke stared, horrified. Fuller had it already and didn't know it.
Poor devil; he was a goner before he started this crazy break of his.
Strangely, Luke was deeply concerned. It was a new experience, this
feeling of compassion for a fellow man.
"To-day!" he grunted. "You ain't figurin' on gettin' out to-day?"
"Positively--it must be to-day. I'll explain."
* * * * *
Much of what followed was unintelligible to Luke Fenton, but he absorbed
enough of the scientist's explanation to understand that his plan was
not impossible of realization. He waxed enthusiastic.
Tom Fuller was vague concerning his own past, but Luke gathered that a
political crime had been responsible for his sentence to the Workshop.
There was much bitterness in the scientist's refusal to dwell on this
point. This, too, Luke was able to understand. The bond between them
strengthened.
"It's like this," Fuller told him: "these suits which enable us to move
about comfortably in Vulcan's gravity are really quite simple in their
functioning. A maze of fine wires is woven into the fabric, and these
wires are charged with anti-gravity energies from tiny capsules which
are inserted under the belt of the garment. The capsules are really
miniature atomic generators and are replaced with fresh ones each night
during the sleeping period, since the initial charge lasts only eighteen
hours. The generated energies neutralize more than eighty percent of the
effect of gravity and our weight thus becomes approximately the same as
it is on Earth. Such garments are worn by all prospectors and other
visitors to Vulcan."
"How come the neutro-beams?" asked Luke.
They are used only here in the Workshop and they operate the same as the
neutro-broadcast from the bastion, the only difference being that the
broadcast blankets an area of about two miles in all directions. In both
cases vibratory ether waves are sent out and these are of such frequency
and wave form as to neutralize the anti-gravity energies originating in
our capsules. They render our suits useless, but those of the guards are
provided with insulating coverings which block off the waves and thus
permit their own garments to function even when the neutro-broadcast is
in operation."
"Smart guys," commented Luke. "Too smart. How the devil we gonna get
away, then? They'll send out the alarm and----"
"Ah, that is where we fool them, Fenton. With the radium."
"Radium!"
* * * * *
"Yes, didn't you know? This ore we mine here contains a higher
percentage of that valuable element than any on Earth or Mars. Its
emanations, together with certain atmospheric gases of Vulcan, are what
cause X.C.--a swift destruction of tissue in the lungs and other vital
organs. And this concentrate"--Fuller waved his hand toward the rows of
tubes before him--"is most highly radioactive of all the products of the
Workshop. That is why the sealed cell is so very dangerous to work in.
But it is this radioactive salt that gives us the means for escape----"
Both men turned quickly to their labors on hearing the footsteps of the
guard.
"My suit is already prepared," continued Fuller, when the eye had gone
from the peephole. "Now to prepare yours. I discovered that this
radioactivity can be used to defeat the purpose of the neutro-rays as
well or better than the regular insulation, which, of course, we can not
obtain. That is why I wanted to be in the sealed cell for a time. We
merely pack a quantity of the radioactive salt around the capsules in
the lining of our garments, and the radium emanations continue the
excitation of the tiny atomic generators even under the influence of the
neutralizing vibrations. Do you follow me?"
"Yes."
Luke did comprehend, even though the technical explanation was beyond
his understanding. They would be able to defy this terrible gravity of
Vulcan. They could fight unhampered; walk, or run--to meet these
mysterious friends of Fuller's. The flashlights and the broadcast would
be useless against them.
The lanky scientist outlined the further details of his plan in swift
whispers while he worked with the energizing capsule of Luke's garment.
* * * * *
Actual escape was surprisingly easy. They waited until the labor period
was finished, when Chan Dai, the yellow-skinned guard, came to unlock
the door. As agreed, Tom Fuller came out first and Luke held back,
dragging his feet and cursing softly to himself.
"What'd you say?" the guard snarled.
Luke grinned disarmingly. "Nothin'," he drawled. Still he hung back,
scarcely moving from where he stood just within the door.
"Come on, tough guy, a little speed." Chan Dai reached for him.
And then Luke was upon him. The neutro-beam flashed harmlessly. Luke's
big hands moved with lightning swiftness, his left one scooping the
guard's dart gun from its shoulder strap and his right closing on the
astonished Oriental's wind-pipe. It was the work of only an instant to
choke him in unconsciousness and lock him in the sealed cell.
"Quick, the chute!" hissed Fuller. He dived head foremost into a
rectangular wooden trough that was used for the disposal of the gangue
from a crushing mill above. This chute, Fuller had said, led to the
outside at the back of the reduction plant.
Across the passage Luke saw a squad of convicts and two guards emerging
from the lift. Then he plunged down the steeply inclined trough after
Fuller. As he slid and tumbled into the darkness, he heard the hoarse
shouting of the guards.
He landed heavily in the pile of gangue at the base of the chute; then
was scrambling and slipping down with an avalanche of the sharp edged
stone. At the bottom, he saw that Fuller had already started up the
slope of the great pit which enclosed the Workshop. Luke darted after
him.
* * * * *
They were hidden from the bastion by the buildings of the smelter and
reduction plant. But the loud yelling of guards back there in the pit
gave evidence that word of the escape was being passed along to Gannett.
Before they were halfway up the slope there was the shriek of the alarm
siren, and Luke felt his body sag with a sudden increase of weight. Fool
that he had been to trust the scrawny scientist!
"It's the broadcast," panted Fuller, beside him. There is some effect,
of course. You're probably carrying fifty extra pounds."
"Huh!" Luke hoped it would be no worse.
Fuller slipped into a narrow crevasse that ran slantwise of the slope
and extended upward to the rim of the pit. The going was much easier
here and they made rapid progress toward the top. Suddenly Luke realized
that it was growing very cold; there was a bite to the foul air, and
moisture from the red mist was frosting his beard. The liberation of the
tiny planet and consequent shifting of the terminator was bringing
frigidity to Vulcan's Workshop.
They came up out of the crevasse at the top of the pit and Luke could
not resist looking back. Every convict in sight was flattened to the
ground. They sprawled singly and in heaps, each one a squashed inert
thing that would not move again until the neutro-broadcast was
discontinued. The guards, confident they would find the escaped
prisoners in like condition, were searching the slope below them.
Luke raised Chan Dai's, dart gun to his shoulder.
Fuller struck aside the muzzle of the weapon. "No!" he protested, "No
unnecessary killing, Fenton. They're completely fooled, and we'll be
well on our way before they know the truth."
Grumbling, Luke drew back from the rim of the excavation.
* * * * *
Up here the ground was fairly level, but there were many fissures and
small craters which made the footing precarious. The mists were so dense
they could see scarcely two hundred feet ahead.
"We'll be lost in the vapors when they finally wake up and come out
after us," Fuller said. "And look Fenton, off there to the left are the
three columns of fire that mark the rendezvous."
They plunged on through the red mist toward the flaming pillars. Those
beacons, even though they subsided at regular intervals, quickly
reappeared after each cessation. And their brilliance penetrated the
mists with ease at this distance of about two miles. There was no fear
of missing their destination.
"Sure your friends'll be there?" Luke asked doubtingly. He was beginning
to have some misgivings about the matter--the scientist had been
anything but explicit as to who these friends were. And the longer his
thoughts dwelt upon the things Fuller had told him the more suspicious
he became. Pretty cagey about everything but the actual getting away
from the Workshop, Fuller had been.
"Certainly they will; they've been waiting two days." Fuller's tone was
impatient and his words came painfully. "You leave that part of it to
me, Fenton," he gasped. There was a fleck of blood at his lips.
As the scientist stumbled on through the mists, Luke's doubts increased
and he began to lose his respect for the man's intellect and for the
cunning which had enabled him to outwit the neutralizing energies used
by the guards. After all, he was a weak and puny specimen. They all
were, the smart guys who held the people of two worlds in their power by
exercising the knowledge they had learned from books. And this one had
failed even in that; whatever he might have been, he had run afoul of
the law himself and was already a doomed man. Tricks! This trick of
Fuller's had gotten them away, but of what use was it without the brute
force necessary to carry on to a successful end?
The brawn Tom had spoken of so slightingly was what they needed from
this time on, and nothing else would save them. Luke had that brawn;
Fuller did not. The scientist slipped and nearly lost his balance at the
edge of a fissure, but Luke made no move to help him. It was every man
for himself at this stage of the game.
* * * * *
Increasing difficulty came with every step. Now they were sliding and
rolling into a deep crater, now scrambling up its steep sides with hands
torn and bodies bruised by the jagged boulders. A yawning crevasse
opened before them and they were forced to skirt its edge for fully a
half mile in the wrong direction before they found a crossing. And the
cold was unbelievably intense. Numbed and silent, with their eyes half
blinded and lungs seared by the frosty air, they struggled on toward the
three pillars of flame.
And still Tom Fuller carried on, though Luke was now in the lead.
They had covered probably half the distance to the flaming columns when
shouts arose behind them. The guards were on their trail.
"Can't--find us," Fuller panted. "The mists----"
"Hell, the mists are clearing," Luke snarled. "You ain't so damn smart
as you think."
What he said was true. Though there was less light on account of the new
angle with the sun farther below the horizon, the red mist was
definitely lighter in color, noticeably less dense. Visibility was good
to several hundred yards. Luke turned his head, but could see nothing of
their pursuers.
"They can't," Fuller insisted weakly.
Luke, pushed on with renewed vigor, ignoring him, cursing.
And then there came faintly to his ears the twang of a dart gun; the
shrill scream of its deadly vibrating missile; a violent blow that flung
him headlong.
* * * * *
Like a cat, he bounced to his feet, crouching with Chan Dai's dart gun
at his shoulder. A strangely grotesque heap was at his feet--Tom Fuller.
Off there in the thinning mist he saw a shadowy figure and he fired at
it twice. Whether his darts found their mark he was never to know, for a
wall of white swept down suddenly to obscure his vision. Snow! Great
massed flakes falling endlessly--the moisture of the mist crystallized
and closing in on him to hide him even more safely, than had the mists
themselves.
He was on his knees then at Fuller's side. A brilliant flash and a
screaming roar over amongst the rocks apprised him of the fact that the
guard's dart had gone wide. And yet Fuller was down, moaning with pain.
Luke tried to turn him over and found that his body had taken on
tremendous weight. He was flattened, crushed to the rocky surface of
Vulcan by the full force of its gravity!
"What the devil!" he grunted as he heaved and strained. "What'd they do
to you, old man?"
With great effort he succeeded in turning the scientist face up. Then he
saw what had happened, and knew in a flash that Fuller had saved him
from the singing dart whose energy was making a sizzling puddle of the
stones where it had landed. The missile, in passing, had carried away
the belt and part of the fabric of Tom's garment--carried away the
capsule and the radium that energized it. Made the thing worse than
useless. And Fuller had done this for him; he had flung himself upon
Luke to shove him out of the line of fire ... risking his own life
gladly ... lucky the deadly dart had missed his body, but....
* * * * *
"You go on, Fenton," the scientist was whispering through lips that were
blue and stiff. "Leave me here. I'm licked. But you can carry on the
work; go to my friends and tell them--everything. Tell them what you saw
back there--tell them----"
"Shut up!" Luke's words were softly growled. There was a new and utterly
unaccountable huskiness in his voice as he straddled the prone body and
locked his strong fingers underneath. "You ain't gonna be left behind,"
he grunted. "We're goin' on, brother, together."
His back straightened and Fuller was swung clear of the ground. His huge
biceps tensed and the scrawny scientist was in the air, up and above the
bowed head, then let down gently to rest across the broad shoulders of
Luke Fenton. Fuller hung there, bent double by the immense weight of
him, crushed to painful contact with the taut muscles that carried the
strain.
On Earth, Fuller might have tipped the scales at a scant one hundred and
thirty pounds; now his sagging body was a load in excess of seven
hundredweight. With that load upon him, and glorying in the effort it
cost, Luke staggered on toward the triple red glow, which, even in the
blinding whiteness of the snowfall, marked the location of the columns
of fire.
That all feeling had left his limbs in the deep-biting cold meant
nothing; that his lungs were near bursting under the terrific strain
meant even less. Luke Fenton had found a man. One he would fight for,
not against. And, miraculously, he had found himself.
* * * * *
After that there was a blur of interminable torture. Reeling and
stumbling, his leg and back muscles shot through with stabbing pain as
the frost worked slowly upward, Luke plodded doggedly ahead. An
occasional shout came from far behind where the guards still searched
the rocky plateau.
Across his great shoulders, Luke's burden was a dead weight, of
corpselike rigidity and stillness. Yet Luke clung to it tenaciously,
disposing the drooping leaden limbs as comfortably as possible by the
judicious spreading of his own brawny arms.
Fuller, he was sure, had not long to live in any event. X.C. had
already progressed to such a point that it was hardly possible he could
recover. And yet, these smart guys Luke always had detested--the doctors
and surgeons and such--they might be able to do something for the poor
devil. Anyway, he determined, he'd get the scientist to his friends dead
or alive, and he'd see to it that they treated him right. If they
didn't....
The red glow was suddenly very bright and a silvery metallic shape
loomed up before him in the whiteness. An ethership! Luke tried to call
out but his bellowing voice was gone; only faint gurgling sounds came
from his throat. He pushed forward with a savage summoning of his last
ounce of energy and Fuller's weight was that of a mastodon upon him. The
curved hull of the vessel was overhead when he slipped and fell to one
knee in the thick carpet of snow.
Luke saw them then, a dozen strangers running from the open air-lock of
the ship. In uniform, some of them--government officials of Earth and
Mars. Damn them, it was a trap!
Knowing vaguely that they had surrounded him, he let Fuller slip from
his shoulders and lowered him gently to the snow. Lurching to his feet,
he stood swaying above the scientist's body, ready to defend the
helpless man against any who came to take him. Defiant curses died in
his paralyzed throat as darkness swooped down to blot out all
consciousness. His steel-sinewed body, beaten at last, slumped
protectingly over the lanky form of his new-found friend.
* * * * *
When Luke next saw the light he stared long and hard at immaculate white
walls and ceiling that shut him in. A gentle purring was in his ears and
he knew he was in an ethership that was under way. He lay weak and
helpless beneath snowy covers, on an iron hospital bed.
There were voices in the room, hushed, awed voices, and Luke moved his
head painfully to stare across the room. Fuller, he saw, was stretched
on another cot, pale and still. And a white-clad nurse was there,
bending over him, talking softly to a doctor. The words that passed
between them brought enlightenment to Luke--and more. They brought a new
elation, and understanding, and hope.
When the doctor and nurse had left, Luke lay for a long time with his
thoughts. There was a man--Tom Fuller. Unafraid, as an agent of a
special governmental committee investigating prison conditions he had
volunteered to get the evidence on Vulcan's Workshop. And he had done
it, even though it was almost certain that his own life was to be the
price. He had dared the misery and hardship, dared X.C. and the
horrible death it brought, that this hellhole of Vulcan might be
exposed, that it might be wiped out of existence by government
agreement. Vulcan's Workshop, where the gold dust of a certain political
clique, brought torture and disease and extinction to hapless prisoners
who might otherwise be remade into useful members of society by the use
of scientific methods--all this was to be no more.
Fuller had succeeded where many others had failed. And Fuller was not to
die. Only one of his lungs had been affected by X.C. and this not too
extensively to respond to treatment. Many months of careful attendance
would be required, and many more months of convalescence. But Fuller,
they were sure, would live, Luke gloated.
From what he had heard, Luke gathered that there was to be no trouble
about his own pardon. Oddly enough, this gave him no satisfaction.
Something had happened to him--inside. For the first time he realised
his debt to society and would have preferred that just sentence be
carried out upon him. But not in that place, not in Vulcan's Workshop!
Luke shuddered.
* * * * *
And lying there, he swore a mighty oath that the remainder of his life
was to be devoted to entirely different pursuits. It was not too late to
face about, not too late to learn. If Fuller would help him, he _would_
learn. He had acquired a healthy respect for the book-learning he
formerly ridiculed, and he wanted some of it for himself--as much as he
could get. His old creed was forgotten, and his bitterness vanished.
"Luke!" At the scientist's husky whisper he turned his head. Fuller was
gazing at him with wide, solemn eyes.
"Thanks, Luke," the thin lips murmured.
"Thanks yourself. Where'd we be right now if it wasn't for your radium?"
There was silence as they regarded one another.
"I need you, Luke," Fuller whispered then, "in my laboratory back home.
I'll be laid up for a long time, you know, and there's much to be done.
Your brawn and my brain--we'll both profit. What do you say to that,
Fenton, will you do it?"