Henry T. Simmons

“ Gutridge entered, his face flushed with triumph.
"You are indeed kind, Pell," he said mockingly. "Five kilos are more than enough for our little task. You will be well rewarded." He laughed.
Pell guessed only too well what the reward would be. Death! Death for all of them. He felt a surge of bitter hate for Gutridge's mocking face. He wanted to batter it to a red pulp with his fists.
Raul Gutridge smiled infuriatingly and turned to Gret. "I believe you know of Major Dallard, do you not?" he asked her. "That was his yokel militia outfit we were scrapping with at the ship. ”

“ Centaura's lone satellite shed a strong light over the surrounding ground and Pell was able to make out the dim figures of men around the blaster tower. To his right the tower itself rose sharply into the sky, the vicious helix of the blaster being etched by the moonlight into a clearly defined blackness in the midst of the lesser blackness of the star-studded sky. ”

“ As he watched them absently, the door opened behind him and Gret entered, her brown gold hair gleaming intoxicatingly in the early light. Even her rough jumper couldn't hide the fresh young curves of her body.
"What's the matter, Grouchy?" she teased. "Still worrying about Gutridge escaping?"
"Yeah," Pell growled. "As long as he's alive, the game isn't finished. But—" he smiled "—I've got you. That ought to be enough for any perfectionist."
He was about to kiss her when the door opened again and Dallard entered.
He looked from Pell to Gret and raised his eyebrows. ”

“ Ignoring them, Pell leveled the blaster at every likely place in which the mercenaries might be entrenched.
Hell, in the form of violently reacting stones and rocks erupted into the sky, showering the DIC soldiers with molten, lava-like droplets. Seeking protection from the super-heated rain of molten particles, some of the mercenaries panicked and fled to the blast tower that reared bulkily behind them. Their action was like a trigger for others and presently a whole mass of men were fleeing for the protection of the tower. ”

“ The big man had ruined him once before; he must not be allowed to triumph again.
"Times are tough for unlicensed space pilots on Earth," Pell began casually. "You've got to work to eat. So I took the job of running these two through the blockade."
"What two?" Gutridge asked, seeing only Gret.
Pell cursed himself. He had blundered again. Silently he indicated the fat man sprawled under the ship.
Gutridge walked over to the recumbent Heintz and kicked him a couple of times, but without succeeding in arousing him. Then he looked up at Pell again. ”

“ The mass of hot rubble effectively sealed off the entrance to the armory—for the time being, at any rate.
With that action, Pell realized that he was a god. Although not an immortal god, certainly a god armed with a terrible destructive force which was not immediately available to the others who might aspire to be gods.
Pell looked at the devastation he had created and became uncertain as to what to do next. Little thought tendrils of unreason whispered at him, telling him to create a reign of terror throughout the multi-leveled warren which was the foundation of the mighty blaster tower. ”

“ How's Heintz?"
"He's ... asleep."
Pell grunted to himself. He was worried about the fat man; the acceleration wouldn't do his heart much good. He tried to settle back in his shock suit more comfortably, then realized that the acceleration held him like a vise. Already the oil-cushioned buoyancy pads seemed to thrust into him like spikes. Breathing deeply, he manipulated the massagers in his shock suit.
Just beyond Orbit Luna, Pell gradually swung the nose of the ship toward the nadir of the solar elliptic and the ship streaked out of the system. ”

“ Perhaps the toughest struggle of all was with a group of fanatical mercenaries on the sixth level who were scrabbling desperately in the rubble of the entrance to the dead-end corridor which led to the atomic armory. Fearing that its violent energies would explode the U-235 in the armory, Pell was unable to use the blaster against them. Desperately the Insurgents stormed the level, only to be cut down sickeningly by the trapped mercenaries. ”

“ Boldly he walked into the corridor and melted unnoticed into the crowd of excited, hurrying soldiers. Pell followed him, his hand on the cool, heavy pistol butt and the enemy prisoner preceding him with his hands sunk in his pockets. As the crowd of men jostled and pushed about him, Pell could hear breathless bits of conversation.
"... blasters—yeah, real atomics. Bede will have 'em in shape in a few minutes."
"... hell, not a chance. Not when we turn those blasters loose."
Pell went slightly sick. He saw that the main stream of men were pouring into a corridor with a dead end. ”

“ He must go to the surface and destroy the mercenaries' defense of the fortress. He must help Dallard crack their resistance as soon as possible so that the precious U-235 might be retrieved from its burying place and turned over to the Insurgents.
Pell's eyes narrowed as he turned again to the auto-droppers. There were so many things he would like to do with his weapon, but first things first. Bleak-eyed Gret Helmuth who could become all woman in an instant—she would have to wait. So would Gutridge. ”

“ Those walls are steel, nothing more."
It was Pell's turn to be excited. Hastily he rose to his feet and approached the door. He examined the metal surface and saw that the fat man was correct.
Thoughtfully he looked at the lighter in his hand. On Earth it was nothing more than a triviality—a novelty that could be acquired anywhere. But here! Yes, here it might be a means to salvation. There was just a chance, he reflected. The whole culture on Centaura seemed to be geared on a pre-atomic level of technology except for the blaster towers. ”

“ Shrugging, Pell followed Heintz inside and turned just in time to see the heavy metal door slide back into place.
Sighing, Heintz lowered his vast bulk to the cement floor and surveyed the cell gloomily. Then he looked up at Pell and said, "Boy, if this ain't a mess! If I know anything about atomics, we got about two hours to figure a way out of this clink. Gutridge has one technician who's a genius when it comes to atomics—guy named Bede. That devil will have those blasters ready in no time." ”

“ Because you are a hunted enemy of the DIC and a space pilot, we felt that you might be interested in our proposition."
"And what is that?" Pell asked.
"If you are to remain alive," she replied, "you must leave Earth. But you have no ship. I have the ship and also want to leave Earth, but cannot without a pilot." ”

“ Pell considered that "one way or another". It sounded ominous and he wondered what it meant. He asked her.
She answered bluntly. "DIC has a swarm of blockaders covering the planet. Nothing can get in or out, except with the greatest risk."
"Have you got any ideas?" he asked.
"No. We are depending on you for that. But there is one way that can't fail. We can drop into hyper-space, evade them, and drop out over the planet. The U-235 is indestructible. They'll find it in the wreckage." ”

“ Of course we are not allowed the use of atomic weapons—that would make revolt all too easy. And naturally I could not risk acquiring one here.
"You see, almost all of our technology is geared on a twentieth century level. Only the DIC-controlled power stations and their mercenary army on Centaura are allowed the use of atomic power and weapons."
Pell shrugged and looked at the dark countryside rushing past the speeder. He had not known that it was really as bad as all that. Obviously the colonials had good reason for their revolution. ”

“ They won't be able to shoot even if they track us both all the way to the Heaviside because they won't know which one is us. But when we hit Heaviside, they'll know—our ship will be pushing 20 G's and the liner a miserable four. We should be out of their range by then, though. However, don't count on it too much—we'll have every DIC warship in the system on our tail and we may have to fight yet." He turned and disappeared up the little passage-way.
In the control room Pell wriggled awkwardly into the ungainly shock suit that would enable him to live during tremendous accelerations. ”

“ Swiftly Pell snatched the man's pistol from its holster and slipped it into his pocket. Then he unslung the soldier's machine-gun and handed it to Heintz. Motioning toward the auto-dropper from which the mercenary had just stepped, Pell helped Heintz shove the struggling soldier inside and let the door slide shut.
Heintz released the enemy soldier who immediately began to howl loudly. The fat man shook him and he ceased his useless cries. Terrified, he looked from Heintz to Pell and back again. ”

“ She tried to smile at him. "We outlanders are a queer bunch, Pell. We ... we hear things. There are men—many men down the valley and they are fighting. Both groups want to capture this ship." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. ”

“ Then he pressed the appropriate stud and turned to Heintz.
"I'll cover this fellow while you keep that gun ready. Just to prevent anything from going wrong, we'll let him walk in front of us with his hands in his pockets and his mouth shut," he said, nodding meaningly at the prisoner.
Heintz grunted and held the machine-gun at ready as the elevator drew to a stop. The door whined open softly and Pell tensed. Before his startled eyes a swarm of men hurried up and down the corridor, apparently too intent upon their business to notice Heintz and Pell. ”

“ Straining on tip-toes, he managed to insert his little finger in one of them, only to meet with a steel mesh screen inside.
Cursing fluently, he flopped down beside Heintz on the floor and stared moodily at his surroundings. The fat man beside him was morosely searching his pockets for a cigarette. He found one at last and began to tinker with his cranky lighter. Pell watched him curiously as he fumbled with its primitive flint. Taking pity on him, Pell produced his own lighter, flicked the stud and held it toward Heintz. The fat man jumped and looked at him reproachfully. ”

“ Pell replied, grinning. "Why don't you get one of your own men to pilot the ship?"
"Colonials are not allowed the mastery of space navigation or piloting. It's a security measure," she replied simply. "They are allowed to master space mechanics, however. Heintz is your mechanic, incidentally." She indicated the man in the front seat behind the wheel of the speeder.
"How about weapons? Why do you use such a cumbersome, ancient thing like that pistol?"
Gret Helmuth laughed. "I see you know very little about colonial affairs, Pell. ”

“ They were holding out in an abandoned blaster tower around here somewhere. If they should happen to be in the neighborhood—" She shrugged.
Pell felt a distinct chill settle down the base of his spine. "If your Insurgents are worth their U-235, they've tracked us on their radar. They should be here any minute," he said reassuringly.
He rose and clambered into the ship through the rent in its side in order to salvage some outer garments because the air was becoming colder. When he returned from the ship to the place where Gret lay, he noticed that she was trembling—and not from the cold. ”

“ It will get to him regardless of the means." She produced the ancient automatic pistol. "If there is no other way, I shall force you to do my bidding with this!"
Pell looked at her contemptuously, turned, and groped back to the control room. When he shrugged into his shock suit, she entered similarly clad. She still held the weapon and her eyes were icy. Her mouth twitched out of control. She seated herself in the shock chair beside him, saying nothing. ”

“ Breathlessly he hammered up the slope on the heels of the fleeing men and ducked instinctively as several shots were fired at him. He was out on open ground. Swiftly he ran for the cover of a dump of bushes and dived into their concealment. ”

“ Pell said, although not very enthusiastically. "How are your men coming along with the uranium?"
"Fine. Fine. But, I say, you're hardly the bright and cheery fellow one would expect to meet this morning."
"He's worried about Gutridge escaping," Gret explained.
Dallard laughed. "Pell, haven't you heard about his ... ah ... little accident? It seems someone forgot to inform the planet-mounteds that our friend would be departing, so I'm afraid he's little more than a cinder now. Frightful mistake, eh?" ”

“ Slowly the huge liner wallowed from its elevated cradle cushioned on a pillar of blue flame. Pell opened his own feed valves a trifle and his primitive converter responded nicely, thrusting the Mark III out of its cradle and up after the passenger liner. ”

“ He jumped in spite of himself as all hell broke loose. The detector alarm clamored deafeningly and its red light blinked feverishly.
Throwing up the Thelmard again, Pell turned to the girl and mopped his brow. "I don't think they caught us on their own detectors, but we almost dropped out in their laps." He grinned.
"We now have a first class, double-barreled problem on our hands. This bucket has momentum amounting to about 600 miles per second. We've got to get rid of that. ”

“ The girl nodded. "We have managed to secure secretly five kilos of U-235 and it is now stored in the ship's cadmium and graphite vaults. With it, Faradson will be able to stand off the constant skirmishing attacks of the DIC until he can build his own refining plants."
Pell whistled softly to himself, his mind busy on the train of thought the girl had presented. Of course, the Earth Government was little more than a semblance of democracy now ”