"Two!" Rawlins glared. "Two of my best pilots!"
Dan's shoulders stiffened. "Listen, Rawlins, I'm just as interested as
you in breaking Roehm's monopoly on Earth-Venus rockets."
"Get out!"
"I can't get out. Don't forget you have another rocket due in twenty
minutes--a passenger rocket."
Rawlins' face went pale. "My God! I'd forgotten." He threw up his
hands. "Turn 'em back," he shrieked. "Send 'em back to earth! It's
suicide to land on that guide beam."
"I can't send them back to Earth," Dan said quietly. "They haven't
enough fuel."
"Then send 'em to one of Roehm's fields. It's an admission of complete
defeat, but we can't kill 'em."
Dan swallowed. "You're forgetting that Roehm uses invisible light for
landing--not ultra short waves. Anyway, do you think Roehm would miss
such a chance to crash one of our rockets?"
Rawlins sat down with a groan. "Where in thunder did I ever get the
idea we could bring in a ship through that magnetic murk on ultra short
waves?"
Dan lifted his head. "There's nothing the matter with my guide beam. It
brought in the experimental rocket yesterday and magnetic conditions
were even worse."
"I see." The smile on Rawlins' lined face was cynical. "In other words
you're trying to pass the buck to Stevens, your control-room operator."
The door of the observation room swung open and a wild-eyed mechanic
burst in.
"Mr. Rawlins, the control-room is still locked. Stevens is sitting in
front of the table and he won't answer us."
* * * * *
Dan tore down the stairs and across the catwalk two steps ahead of
Rawlins. He hammered on the door. Through the thick glass he could see
Stevens hunched over the lighted control table.
"Stevens! Stevens!" He turned to Rawlins. "We'll have to cut the lock.
Get a torch--and get a doctor!"
It took a minute with a high torch before they crashed into the room.
"He's been dead several minutes," the doctor said as he took his hand
from Steven's forehead.
"I'm sorry, Kearns," Rawlins said. He looked at the doctor. "Well, I
guess that explains everything. He must have lost control just as she
was coming in. What was it? Heart attack?"
The doctor shook his head. "Some sort of convulsion. Muscles violently
contracted. Funny he didn't fall to the floor. Must have affected the
whole nervous system. Even the eye pupils are down to pin points." He
looked around at Rawlins. "I may be sticking my neck out, sir, but off
hand I'd say Stevens was killed."
"Killed?" Rawlins blinked at the form in the chair. "But that's
impossible. The door was locked. The room hasn't been disturbed and
there aren't any holes in the glass. Nothing could get in here except
light."
Dan walked to the big windows. He examined the ledge and the joints.
He came back to the control table and tested the switches. Suddenly he
leaned over Stevens' huddled body and pulled the log book from under
his stiff fingers.
"Look at this!"
Scrawled across the pad in big jerky letters were the words "_Purple
light bea_...." The pencil had torn through the sheet in a violent
final contraction.
Rawlins rubbed his chin. "We don't use any purple beams. It doesn't
make sense."
"Maybe it does," Dan said. He turned to the doctor. "Wasn't there
some experiments made by a Dr. Aren Linden several years ago on the
injurious effect of certain kinds of light on the nervous system?"
The doctor frowned. "Yes, I think there was, but the experiments were
never completed."
"That's right. The foundation refused to up his salary, so he went to
work for Roehm." Dan swung around to Rawlins. "It was Linden who helped
work out the invisible light landing system that Roehm uses on his
Venus rocket ports."
"Seems to me you're jumping to some pretty wild conclusions, Kearns,"
Rawlins said slowly.
Dan looked at him. "Suppose Linden has found the exact wave-length
of the most potent ray. It would be simple for anyone to climb the
framework of one of the buildings and shine that light in here."