"The holiest of all holy Martian women, the Premier's woman!"
"Yes, Mr. Lasker."
I was speechless and, I will admit, scared. This was real serious
business. This no newsman on Mars would wade into without a clearance
covered with red seals and blazing with blue ribbons. The Martians were
_touchy_ about their women, and they meant it.
And our doll, our Deborah had done this all by herself. But why? I
asked the burning question even if it was crazy, "You didn't kidnap
her, did you? Just for laughs or something?"
"Steve, please!"
She was scared. I loosened a button on my collar. "Okay, baby, give it
to me. All of it. You realize this constitutes a breach of faith with
the Martians. Not to mention an assault on U.F.S. policy. A lot of
people are going to find their heads on the block if this gets out."
"Well, I don't know about that," Deborah said quietly. "I was asked to
do this. To arrange this trip for Laapet, in exactly this way. And I
gave it a lot of thought before I agreed to do it."
"Laapet? The lady's name?"
She nodded. She backed away a little, down on her elbow again. She had
been upsetting that close; even with everything else charging through
my brain, I noticed it. Had she?
"I was at the _Celestial_ when the first news from Ul broke," Deborah
said. "I was about to go to bed, as a matter of fact, when the Martian
innkeep hammered on my door and told me about the disaster. I packed
my gear right away and got transportation for rescue headquarters.
I figured the biggest picture-wise things would be happening there.
Besides, I wanted to help if I could.
"I hadn't gone very far from the _Celestial_ when my vehicle was
stopped by a Martian."
I listened to her story incredulously. It was eerie and unbelievable.
There in the merciless cold of the white-lighted night desert Deborah
had made the first crossing into the secret, private world of the
Martians.
* * * * *
The man who intercepted her appeared out of the night, without warning.
Tall and slender in a cloak of soft furs, his feet in fine leather
quilted boots, the tall glittering oxygen cone crested with the
phoenix-like emblem of the ruling group--he was regal, and tragic with
uncertainty. He had no taste for his mission but he was urgent.
He frightened Deborah with his intensity but she trusted him. The way
you always trusted the Martians. She left her chauffeur to wait for
her and went with him in his machine. They drove into the desert for a
long while in silence. He did not tell her what to expect, but it was
obviously important and secret. He was without attendants. He did not
even have a driver but operated his own vehicle.
"I could not understand why I had been chosen," Deborah said. "But I
had the feeling that I was very unimportant, in myself."
They came to the rendezvous spot where one of the larger and better
land machines waited--like a black monument rising from the white sand.
Inside, Laapet waited. He had taken her to his sister, Pundra Doh's
wife.
The compartment was luxurious and dimly lit. Laapet sat behind
semi-opaque hangings, shy, frightened and all but invisible. But
desperate. Her two children were in Ul and she was beside herself with
anxiety for them.
Deborah's face was very soft and saddened. I understood something,
suddenly, something I had not come close to before. Laapet was not
a stowaway to Deborah, or a diplomatic catastrophe, but a woman
distraught with concern for her children. If Deborah had any motivation
it was to help this other woman--even if she broke the iron rules of
the Martian code. She was, in that instant, an entire woman, herself.
And what could you do about it? Forget you were a good guy, too,
someplace in your cynical old fibers? And just berate her for getting
you involved in an absolutely untenable situation--one that would
presently have the Ambassador, himself, running for a bromo fizz?
"So, she wanted to go to Ul. And you were the only woman going and
she trusted you to understand?" I said it as gently as I could. Maybe
Deborah understood that I understood, for once.
Deborah was thoughtful. "I don't understand all of it," she said
slowly. "She was, naturally, not permitted to accompany the Premier.
I'm sure she didn't even ask. If you know anything about the way they
rear their children, here ..." she said expectantly, and I nodded
because I had read a report or two on the subject.
"Well, it seems she had been ill--not physically, but emotionally, I
gather. She was unstable and the children were sent to Ul on a holiday,
to escape her tensions. Since they had been sent to Ul because of her,
she felt it was her fault they were in danger. And because she knew
they would receive no better attention, or be found more quickly, under
the Martian code, she decided to go herself to make sure they would
survive."
"They will not honor her for it," I said. And I was doubtful that
Madame Pundra's stability had returned.
"I am sure they won't," Deborah said bitterly. "But I can understand
that her children are worth more to her than her honor. And maybe
that's an instinct that's common to all mothers regardless of their
origin."
I couldn't argue with her. I didn't say that maybe if Madame Pundra had
been well, emotionally, according to Martian standards, she wouldn't
have done it. What was the point?
* * * * *
The generators of the _Starfish_ hammered through the silence that
hung between us. I had never before been touched emotionally, myself,
by anything Martian. And here, suddenly, I was a hapless party to a
certain tragedy--all the more tragic because it was based on mores I
did not understand entirely, or sympathize with.
"Maybe we can help her avoid dishonor?"
Deborah shrugged. "She will, in any event, confess to having petitioned
us into helping her. The Martians do not dissemble. That will be enough
to condemn her."
I shook myself out of a peculiar gloom. "There may be a way." I said,
but I doubted it. "How did you ever get her on board? And where is she?
And how did she ever hear about you?"
Deborah looked tired. "The plan was to smuggle her aboard in my
portable developing unit; it worked out very smoothly. I don't know how
she heard about me. I wish she hadn't."
"That makes two of us," I muttered. "Deborah?"
Her mouth shook a little. "Yes, Steve, I know." Her voice was a
register lower and all but inaudible. "I'm glad I can count on you, you
louse."
Something pretty incredible was happening to us. In spite of the way
she phrased it she was suddenly not out there striding along manfully
by herself, any more. Nor had she ever been. To have her suddenly
lapse atavistically into a woman instead of a termagent was more than
I could handle. I, who had all but resigned myself to the inevitable,
eventual appeal of one of the moronic but less assertive ewes of our
society! How had Deborah been flushed through the nets and traps
and conditioners of our psychologists--to land, thus, a compound
personality in my lap?
Here, I thought exultantly, is no glitteringly compatible equal with
every brain impulse carefully measured, and every muscle vibrating in
harmony with the males on her level. But a thoroughly mixed-up female
in the romantic tradition of the last century!
"You damned little fake," I said huskily.
"It took you the longest time to figure me out," Deborah sighed. "I
hope you'll treat it as a confidential disclosure or they'll try to
cure me and make me _normal_."
"Heaven forbid!" I let her voice crawl up and down my spine with a
freedom I'd never allowed before. It made me feel pretty drunk.
I looked at her and her eyes were green and wide. "God, you're
beautiful," I said with the unbidden frankness that comes with any kind
of drunkenness.
"You make me feel that way," she said.
I touched her hand very briefly. "It'll turn out as good as I can
manage."
"I needed you, Steve. I was so afraid you wouldn't be there. I couldn't
be alone with this one. She's going to _kill_ herself, Steve."
"Aren't any of her people interested in helping her? What about her
brother?"
"Another potential suicide, I suppose," Deborah said bitterly. "He's
with Pundra Doh in the lead ship. He will ostensibly take over when he
reaches Ul."
"Well, heaven bless him."
* * * * *
I didn't have to go back and sit next to Charley, but I did. I had a
couple of things to think about and if I'd stayed with Deborah I would
have thought about only one of them.
Charley was half asleep. Raeburn seemed to be asleep. Vechi was
reading. I leaned back and closed my eyes. And still I thought about
only one thing. Deborah. Not thinking, really, feeling. I resented
Pundra Doh's wife for crowding in on that feeling. And for the vague
presentiment I had about Vechi. And Charley's eternally undisturbed
equanimity.
Deborah! I wished we were anywhere but where we were. With this new
thing to explore and understand, I wanted to be near her, alone. But
everything had its price; I had been conditioned successfully enough to
accept that.
There was Laapet, Madame Pundra. And what if her brother did not
materialize when we reached Ul?
I opened my eyes and watched Charley. He was pouring a shot from his
bottle. "Here, pal," he said, "have a medicinal."
I wondered if we would have to tell him about Laapet? Not yet. "Wait,"
I told myself reassuringly, "her brother will take the whole thing off
your hands." But I wasn't sure. I had the uneasy feeling that something
would prevent it.
I glanced at Deborah. She was lying on her back, staring at the dome of
the _Starfish_. She didn't look like she was thinking about us, only.
Charley was tuned in on the same vibration band. He gave me the answer.
"You know," he said quietly, "I've been thinking about Vechi. I don't
like his being on the _Starfish_."
"Go fight the R.A.," I said sarcastically.
"I don't like other things, too," he went on, ignoring me. "Why hasn't
one of the pilots come out for a smoke, yet? Or a drink--or for some
bright chatter with us educated chaps?"
"Things too dull for you, pal?" I asked routinely. It hadn't
penetrated, yet.
Charley had on his patient expression. "Listen, Brain. While you and
Debby were having your big conference I went to the men's lounge to
gargle my throat. It's a funny thing how cautious the R.A.'s getting;
the door to the control room is locked. I tried it gently. If they
didn't want to come out and talk to us--I thought I'd go talk to them."
My stomach froze into a hard knot. I looked at Charley and he said,
"There's the barest possibility that Vechi is pulling a fast one.
Figure that he wants a diranium sample. With a couple of pals driving
this bus he could get into and out of Ul slick as anything."
"But we complicate things," I muttered hopefully.
"It's four to two if you don't count Debby for a muscle man. And with
the element of surprise on their side, they think--what have they got
to worry about?"
"Vechi wouldn't dare--not with the whole R.A. out there to protect the
mines!"
"I dunno," Charley said. "He's real cool."
"Well, well," I said. I was thinking about the additional complication
of Madame Pundra. "And if you aren't just off on a pipe night how do we
find out for sure? And then what, Charley?"
"I don't know, Master Brain. You think about it. No man of action, I!"
"Why would the control room be locked?" I mused.
"I don't know, Brain."
"Do you suppose Vechi thinks we've caught on?"
"No. He's a Superior Type; to him we're just alcoholic writer chaps."
"I'm glad you're a student of human nature, Charley, old pal. But how
do we act effectively without a weapon of some sort?"
"Now, it's real hilarious," Charley said with a broad smile, "but say I
had a vision, or planned a stick-up on the First National Bank of Ul. I
have a popgun in my gear."
Well. Old Charley. You never could tell.
"Where is it?"
"It has taken the bottle down two inches but I've managed to get it out
of the gear-bag and into my workalls."
"A real efficient type, Charley, old pal." I looked about me wondering
if we weren't just imagining everything. And if the Ul disaster weren't
enough reason for this trip. "How about Deborah?"
"If we had a game of stud king," Charley said, fishing out a token,
"and Debby joined us, we could have a lot of conversation between
hands."
"Heads," I said clearly.
"Son of a space cook," he said loudly. "You deal."
I glanced at Vechi casually, as though satisfying myself that he didn't
want to be disturbed. He was looking at us over his book. He smiled, I
thought, in a superior way.
"Want to lose some money?" I called to Deborah.
"I've got some change," she said, sitting up.
And so we commenced to play stud king on a cleared-off space on the
floor. Between the laughs we got in a lot of conversation.
* * * * *
We figured we had time. The trip to Ul took four hours and we were only
half-way there. If Vechi was up to something it would probably involve
a "forced" landing somewhere just outside of Ul, away from the main
rocket fleet. After all, what he wanted was in Ul.
If the pilots and Raeburn were in on the deal with him--and they had to
be--we were badly outnumbered. Our only chance was not in waiting but
in somehow getting control of the _Starfish_ while it was still aloft.
And of contacting the lead ship for help.
Deborah was scared. And I was glad she was scared. And I was glad she
didn't turn up a single, bright idea for our salvation. Except that she
would have to tell Madame Pundra about this development.
It was then that we told Charley about our stowaway. It was to his
credit that his expression remained unchanged. And indicative of
something that his only excitement was at the possibility of finally
seeing a Martian woman.
It may have seemed very little to go on, our conviction that Vechi
was masterminding a coup. But it's the little things that make you
suspicious. The R.A. is made up of casual characters. They like to
talk, gripe about no smoking in the control room, come back to sniff
out a drink or a game of stud king, maybe an off-color story. There
seems to be a kind of conspiracy to get the rockets to fly themselves
while the pilots visit aft--or so it seems to the passengers.
You get to expect informalities from the R.A.; they're usual. And it's
the kind of detail a slick, factual guy like Vechi could overlook, or
think you might overlook, if he were planning something. The longer the
pilots stayed away--the more certain we were.
We were also sure that if Vechi and Raeburn were in the pay of an Earth
syndicate to get hold of diranium ore they could have slugged the
pilots of the _Starfish_, put in their own crew and trailed along with
the rescue fleet. We didn't represent much of a threat; they could dump
us anyplace. The _Starfish_ was no beauty but she could make the trip
back to Earth.
We did not want to think they were planning to do anything more serious
than dump us. And Charley and I were determined that Vechi wasn't going
to reduce us to a trio of dumb pawns. But I guess we couldn't help what
happened, at that. There was another mighty powerful piece in this
chess game we hadn't even thought about.
Deborah was hopeful almost to the end that we were just imagining the
whole thing. "How can we be sure?" she wanted to know.
Then Charley had the inspiration. He remembered one of the pilots
permanently assigned to the _Starfish_, Fats Berenson. The joke was
that Fats was too big for the sleek speed-boats up ahead but better
suited to this boxcar.
"If Fats were aboard," Charley said, looking over a new hand of stud
king, "he would have been out here two hours ago and using every
gimmick to stay out here. He's just naturally the laziest slob in the
R.A. Besides, I owe him some money from an old bet. Knowing from the
passenger list that I was aboard he would have come up from hell,
itself, to collect."
"But we're still not sure," Deborah insisted.
"Tell you what," Charley said quietly, raking in a pot, "I'm going to
find out who the pilots are. I'll use the gun on the lock--and keep the
boys at the controls orderly after that. Then I'll try to contact the
lead ship for help. If the pilots aren't old friends."
"The hero type," I muttered. But I was grateful he had the gun. "Okay,
Charley. I'll keep Vechi occupied and Deborah can take off to the
ladies' lounge for safety, and to tell Madame Pundra what we plan to
do."
"You got it, Bright Boy," Charley grinned. "Debby leaves first and then
I stroll out real casual. It doesn't matter if Vechi and Raeburn catch
wise once I've contacted the lead ship. They won't dare pull anything
because the _Electra_ could catch this tub with half its generators
conked out."
"It's a comforting thought," I said. And then I looked at Deborah. "Go
on," I told her, "get out of here and stay out of sight until I collect
you. I've got my mark on you."
It caught Charley off balance. "Well, I'll be damned," he said. "Where
was I when this happened?"
"Lushing it up," I said. I watched Deborah get up and leave the
compartment. Vechi watched her, too. His chest heaved up as though
he were sighing wearily; he turned a page in his book and looked at
Raeburn. His assistant lay flat on his back. His wide mouth hung open
slack, ugly and resonant with a snore. Vechi went back to his book.
Then, with some elaborate stretching, Charley stood up and I watched
him leave, too. Vechi watched him go, as well. He glanced at me,
pleasantly.
"The bum," I said conversationally, "he took me for ten fish in stud
king!"
"That so?" Vechi smiled agreeably. He folded his book. And then he very
calmly reached into the pocket of his work-all and took out a gun. He
held it very steadily and it was aimed at me.
"You can't win at everything," he said. "Some days aren't lucky." He
had a nice sense of the ironic.
Raeburn, beside him, snored peacefully. And I sat there numb and
helpless.
"What in the hell is that for?" I asked and my throat was full of
gravel.
Vechi smiled as if I should know and I thought I did. But I was never
more mistaken.
* * * * *
Then Vechi did a strange thing. He prodded Raeburn with his foot. It
took a lot of prodding to wake him. When Raeburn's eyes opened he was
looking straight down the blast channels of Vechi's weapon. It was a
hell of a way to wake up. His Adam's apple froze half way through a
convulsion of shock.
"Get up," Vechi said gently, "and get over there with our friend in the
press box."
Raeburn was a little slow in comprehending and from the way Vechi urged
him with the toe of his boot you could tell nobody loved Raeburn.
It didn't figure. The timing was off. Why the switch on Raeburn? Vechi
was going to need help getting what he wanted in Ul. If there was going
to be a double-cross, why now? Before Raeburn had been useful? Or was
Raeburn in on it at all?
"Now, look, Vechi," I blustered, "this is a pretty dumb joke. What's it
all about?"