Part 14 (2/2)

We could see several of Miko's men--erstwhile members of our crew and steward corps--scurrying from the turret along the upper bridge toward the dark and silent radio room. Snap was up there. But was he? The radio room glowed suddenly with dim light, but there was no evidence of a fight there. The fighting seemed mostly below the deck, down in the hull corridors. A blended horror of sounds came up to us. Screams, shouts and the hissing and snapping of ray weapons. Our crew--such of them as were loyal--were making a stand below. But it was brief.

Within a minute it died away. The pa.s.sengers, amids.h.i.+ps in the superstructure, were still shouting. Then above them Miko's roar sounded.

”Be quiet! Go in your rooms--you will not be harmed.”

The brigands in these few minutes were in control of the s.h.i.+p. All but this little chart room, where, with most of the s.h.i.+p's weapons, Carter and I were entrenched.

”G.o.d, Gregg, that this should come upon us!”

Carter was fumbling with the chart room weapons. ”Here, Gregg. Help me. What have you got? Heat ray? That's all I had ready.”

It struck me then as I helped him make the connections that Carter in this crisis was at best an inefficient commander. His red face had gone splotchy purple; his hands were trembling. Skilled as Captain of a peaceful liner, he was at a loss now. But I could not blame him. It is easy to say we might have taken warning, done this or that, and come triumphant through the attack. But only the fool looks backward and says, ”I would have done better.”

I tried to summon my wits. The s.h.i.+p was lost to us unless Carter and I could do something. Our futile weapons! They were all here--four or five heat ray hand projectors that could send a pencil ray a hundred feet or so. I shot one diagonally up at the turret where Johnson was leering down at our rear window, but he saw my gesture and dropped back out of sight. The heat beam flashed harmlessly up and struck the turret room. Then across the turret window came a sheen of radiance--an electrobarrage. And behind it, Hahn's suave, evil face appeared. He shouted down:

”We have orders to spare you, Gregg Haljan--or you would have been killed long ago!”

My answering shot hit his barrage with a shower of sparks, behind which he stood unmoved.

Carter handed me another weapon. ”Gregg, try this.”

I leveled the old explosive projector; Carter crouched beside me. But before I could press the trigger, from somewhere down the starlit deck an electro beam hit me. The little rifle exploded, broke its breech. I sank back to the floor, tingling from the shock of the hostile current. My hands were blackened from the exploded powder.

Carter seized me. ”No use. Hurt?”

”No.”

The stars through the dome windows were swinging. A long swing--the shadows and patterns on the starlit deck were all s.h.i.+fting. The _Planetara_ was turning. The heavens revolved in a great round sweep of movement, then settled as we took our new course.

Hahn at the turret controls had swung us. The Earth and the Sun showed over our bow quarter. The sunlight mingled red-yellow with the brilliant starlight. Hahn's signals were sounding; I heard them answered from the mechanism rooms down below. Brigands there--in full control. The gravity plates were being set to the new positions: We were on our new course. Headed a point or two off the Earthline. Not headed for the Moon? I wondered.

Carter and I were planning nothing. What was there to plan? We were under observation. A Martian paralyzing ray--or an electronic beam, far more deadly than our own puny weapons--would have struck us the instant we tried to leave the chart room.

My thoughts were interrupted by a shout from down the deck. At a corner of the cabin superstructure some fifty feet from our windows the figure of Miko appeared. A radiance barrage hung about him like a s.h.i.+mmering mantle. His voice sounded: ”Gregg Haljan, do you yield?”

Carter leaped up from where he and I were crouching. Against all reason of safety he leaned from the low window, waving his hamlike fist.

”Yield? No! I am in command here, you pirate! Brigand--murderer!”

I dragged him back sharply. ”For G.o.d's sake--”

He was spluttering; and over it Miko's sardonic laugh sounded. ”Shall we argue about it?”

I stood up. ”What do you want to say, Miko?”

Behind him the tall, thin figure of his sister showed. She was plucking at him. He turned violently. ”I won't harm him! Gregg Haljan--is this a truce? You will not shoot?” He was s.h.i.+elding Moa.

”No,” I called. ”For a moment, no. A truce. What is it you want to say?”

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