Tiny suns set in rare metals, crystals of fire
that mocked Terra's diamonds and pearls as
lusterless pebbles and pale glass, the ancient
treasure left behind the same time-worn
trail of sudden blood and stiffening corpses!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Winter 1948.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
For a long minute the big man did not speak, rocking gently on his
heels, hands clasped behind his broad back. The dim glow of the atomics
in the corridor cast shadowy bars of gold and sable across his cold
face, picked glints of steel and silver from his heavy gunbelt and
saffron uniform. The only sound was the gentle tinkle of leg-irons
as the prisoner lounging on the cell-bench idly swung his crossed
leg, returning the heavier man's reptilian stare with a detached,
infuriating coolness.
It moved him to break his silent regard. The thick voice rasped in the
dim-lit cell.
"You know why I am here, Kurland?"
The black-bearded outlaw shrugged, a glitter of white teeth splintering
his calm stare.
"Were you other than Gion, Marward of Jupiter, I should know. As it
is, I do not."
Gion's hard lips smiled briefly at the iron compliment.
"I rate you higher than you think, Kurland. I should have come farther
still to see you hanged at dawn."