Part 22 (1/2)

”We're not worrying about Chambers,” Greg told him. ”We're not worrying about anyone. You're the one who had better start doing some.”

Scorio cringed.

”Let me tell you about a place on Venus,” said Greg. ”It's in the center of a big swamp that stretches for hundreds of miles in every direction.

It's a sort of mountain rising out of the swamp. And the swamp is filled with beasts and reptiles of every kind. Ravenous things, l.u.s.ting for blood. But they don't climb the mountain. A man, if he stayed on the mountain, would be safe. There's food there. Roots and berries and fruits and even small animals one could kill. A man might go hungry for a while, but soon he'd find the things to eat.

”But he'd be alone. No one ever goes near that mountain. I am the only man who ever set foot on it. Perhaps no one ever will again. At night you hear the screaming and the crying of the things down in swamp, but you mustn't pay any attention to them.”

Scorio's eyes widened, staring. ”You won't send me _there_!”

”You'll find my campfires,” Greg told him, ”if the rain hasn't washed them away. It rains a lot. So much and so drearily that you'll want to leave that mountain and walk down into the swamp, of your own free will, and let the monsters finish you.”

Scorio sat dully. He did not move. Horror glazed his eyes.

Greg signed to Russ. Russ, pipe clenched between his teeth, reached out his fingers for the keys. The engines droned.

Manning walked slowly to a television control, sat down in the chair and flipped over a lever. A face stared out of the screen. It was strangely filled with anger and a sort of half-fear.

”You watched it, didn't you, Stutsman?” Greg asked.

Stutsman nodded. ”I watched. You can't get away with it, Manning. You can't take the law into your own hands that way.”

”You and Chambers have been taking the law into your hands for years,”

said Greg. ”All I did tonight was clear the Earth of some vermin. Every one of those men was guilty of murder ... and worse.”

”What did you gain by it?” asked Stutsman.

Greg gave a bitter laugh. ”I convinced you, Stutsman,” he said, ”that it isn't so easy to kill me. I think it'll be some time before you try again. Better luck next time.”

He flipped the switch and turned about in the chair.

Russ jerked his thumb at the skylight. ”Might as well finish the s.h.i.+p now.”

Greg nodded.

An instant later there was a fierce, intolerably blue-white light that lit the mountains for many miles. For just an instant it flared, exploding into millions of brilliant, harmless sparks that died into darkness before they touched the ground. The gangster s.h.i.+p was destroyed beyond all tracing, disintegrated. The metal and quartz of which it was made were simply gone.

Russ brought his glance back from the skylight, looked at his friend.

”Stutsman will do everything he can to wipe us out. By tomorrow morning the Interplanetary machine will be rolling. With only one purpose--to crush us.”

”That's right,” Greg agreed, ”but we're ready for them now. Our s.h.i.+p left the Belgium factories several hours ago. The _Comet_ towed it out in s.p.a.ce and it's waiting for us now. In a few hours the _Comet_ will be here to pick us up.”

”War in s.p.a.ce,” said Russ, musingly. ”That's what it will be.”