"Very well, then," Mike continued, "since the killer could not get
Snookums to do me in, he had to find another tool. He picked Lieutenant
Mellon.
"He figured that Mellon was in love with Leda Crannon. Maybe he was; I
don't know. He figured that Mellon, knowing that I was showing Miss
Crannon attention, would, under the influence of the lysurgic acid
derivative, try to kill me. He may even have suggested it to Mellon
after Mellon had taken a dose of the drugged wine.
"But that plan backfired, too. Mellon didn't have that kind of mind. He
knew my attentions and my intentions were honorable, if you'll pardon
the old-fashioned language. On the other hand, he knew that von Liegnitz
had a reputation for being--shall we say--a ladies' man. What happened
after that followed naturally."
Mike watched everyone at the table. No one moved.
"So the killer, realizing that he had failed twice, decided to do the
job himself. First, he went into the low-power room and slugged the man
on duty. He intended to kill him, but he didn't hit hard enough. When
that man wakes up, he'll be able to testify against the killer.
"Then the killer ordered Snookums to tear out the switches. He had made
sure that Snookums would be waiting outside. Before he called Snookums
in, of course, he had to put the duty man in a tool closet, so that the
robot wouldn't see him. He told Snookums to wait five minutes and then
smash the switches and head back to his cubicle.
"Then the killer went to my room and waited. When the lights went out
and the door opened, he intended to go in and smash my skull, making it
look as though either Mellon or Snookums had done it.
"But he didn't figure on my awakening as soon as the switches were
broken. He heard me moving around and decided to wait until I came out.
"But I heard him breathing. It was quite faint, and I wouldn't have
heard it, except for the fact that the air conditioners were off. Even
so, I couldn't be sure.
"However, I knew it wasn't Snookums. Snookums radiates a devil of a lot
more heat than a human being, and besides he smells of machine oil.
"So I pulled my little trick with the boots. The killer waited and
waited for me to come out, and I was already out. Then Chief Multhaus
approached from the other direction. The killer knew he'd have to get
out of there, so he went in the opposite direction. He met Snookums, who
was still obeying orders. Snookums smacked into me on his way down the
hall.
"He could do that, you see, because I was an angel. If he hurt me of his
own accord, I couldn't take revenge on anyone but him. And there was no
necessity to obey my orders, either, since he was obeying the orders of
the killer, which held precedence.
"Then, to further confuse things, the killer went to Mellon's room. The
physician was in a drugged stupor, so the killer carried him out and put
him in an unlikely place, so that we'd think that perhaps Mellon had
been the one who'd tried to get me."
He had everyone's eyes on him now. They didn't want to look at each
other.
Pete Jeffers said: "Mike, if Mellon was poisoned, like you say, how come
he was able to attack Mister Vaneski?"
"Ah, but did he? Think back, Pete. Mellon--dying or already dead--had
been propped upright in that narrow locker. When it was opened, he
started to _fall_ out--straight toward the man who had opened the
locker, naturally. Vaneski jumped back and shot before Mellon even hit
the floor. Isn't that right?"
"Sure, sure," Jeffers said slowly. "I reckon I'd've done the same thing
if he'd started to fall out toward me. I wasn't even lookin' when the
locker was opened. I didn't turn around until that stun gun went
off--then I saw Mellon falling."
"Exactly. No matter how it may have looked, Vaneski couldn't have killed
him with the stun gun, because he was already either dead or so close to
death as makes no difference."
Ensign Vaneski rather timidly raised his hand. "Excuse me, sir, but you
said this killer was waiting for you outside your room when the lights
went out. You said you knew it wasn't Snookums because Snookums smells
of hot machine oil, and you didn't smell any. Isn't it possible that an
air current or something blew the smell away? Or--"
Mike shook his head. "Impossible, Mister Vaneski. I woke up when the
door slid open. I heard the last dying whisper of the air conditioners
when the power was cut. Now, we know that Snookums tore out those
switches. He's admitted it. And the evidence shows that a pair of waldo
hands smashed those switches. Now--_how could Snookums have been at my
door within two seconds after tearing out those switches_?
"He couldn't have. It wasn't Snookums at my door--it was someone else."
Again they were all silent, but the question was on their faces: Who?
"Now we come to the question of motive," Mike continued. "Who among you
would have any reason to kill me?
"Of the whole group here, I had known only Captain Quill and Commander
Jeffers before landing in Antarctica. I couldn't think of any reason for
either of them to want to murder me. On the other hand, I couldn't think
of anything I had done since I had met the rest of you that would make
me a target for death." He paused. "Except for one thing." He looked at
Jakob von Liegnitz.
"How about it, Jake?" he said. "Would you kill a man for jealousy?"
"Possibly," said von Liegnitz coldly. "I might find it in my heart to
feel very unkindly toward a man who made advances toward my wife. But I
have no wife, nor any desire for one. Miss Crannon"--he glanced at
Leda--"is a very beautiful woman--but I am not in love with her. I am
afraid I cannot oblige you with a motive, Commander--either for killing
Lieutenant Mellon or yourself."
"I thought not," Mike said. "Your statement alone, of course, wouldn't
make it true. But we have already shown that the killer had to be on
good terms with Mellon in order to borrow his books and slip a drug into
his wine. He would have to be a visitor in Mellon's quarters. And,
considering the strained relations between the two of you, I think that
lets you out, Jake."
Von Liegnitz nodded his thanks without changing his expression.
"But there was one thing that marked these attempts. I'm sure that all
but one of you has noticed it. They are incredibly, childishly sloppy."
Mike paused to let that sink in before he went on. "I don't mean that
the little details weren't ingenious--they were. But the killer never
stopped to figure out the ultimate end-point of his schemes. He worked
like the very devil to convince Snookums that it would be all right to
kill me without ever once considering whether Snookums would do it or
not. He then drugged Mellon's wine, not knowing whether Mellon would try
to kill me or someone else--or anyone at all, for that matter. He got a
dream in his head and then started the preliminary steps going without
filling in the necessary steps in between. Our killer--no matter what
his chronological age--does _not_ think like an adult.
"And yet his hatred of me was so great that he took the chances he has
taken, here on the _Brainchild_, where it should have been obvious that
he stood a much better chance of being caught than if he had waited
until we were back on Earth again.
"So I gave him one more chance. I handed him my life on a platter, you
might say.
"He grabbed the bait. I now own a spacesuit that would kill me very
quickly if I went out into that howling, hydrogen-filled storm outside."
Then he looked straight at the killer.
"Tell me, Vaneski, are you in love with your half sister? Or is it your
half brother?"
Ensign Vaneski had already jumped to his feet. The grimace of hate on
his youthful face made him almost unrecognizable. His hand had gone into
a pocket, and now he was leaping up and across the table, a singing
vibroblade in his hand.
"_You son of a bitch! I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!_"
Mike the Angel wasn't wearing the little gadget that had saved his life
in Old Harry's shop. All he had were his hands and his agility. He
slammed at the ensign's wrist and missed. The boy was swooping
underneath Mike's guard. Mike spun to one side to avoid Vaneski's dive
and came down with a balled fist aimed at the ensign's neck.
He almost hit Lieutenant Keku. The big Hawaiian had leaped to his feet
and landed a hard punch on Vaneski's nose. At the same time, Jeffers and
von Liegnitz had jumped up and grabbed at Vaneski, who was between them.
Black Bart had simply stood up fast, drawn his stun gun, and fired at
the young officer.
Ensign Vaneski collapsed on the table. He'd been slugged four times and
hit with a stun beam in the space of half a second. He looked, somehow,
very young and very boyish and very innocent.
Dr. Fitzhugh, who had stood up during the brief altercation, sat down
slowly and picked up his cup of coffee. But his eyes didn't leave the
unconscious man sprawled across the table. "How could you be so sure,
Commander? About his actions, I mean. About his childishness."
"A lot of things. The way he played poker. The way he played bridge. He
never took the unexpected into account."
"But why should he want to kill you here on the ship?" Fitzhugh asked.
"Why not wait until you got back to Earth, where he'd have a better
chance?"
"I think he was afraid I already knew who he was--or would find out very
quickly. Besides, he had already tried to kill me once, back on Earth."