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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1111ab4 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62546 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62546) diff --git a/old/62546-h.zip b/old/62546-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 2c576e8..0000000 --- a/old/62546-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62546-h/62546-h.htm b/old/62546-h/62546-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index c1b423d..0000000 --- a/old/62546-h/62546-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2901 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Prey of the Space Falcon, by Wilbur S. Peacock. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Prey of the Space Falcon, by Wilbur S. Peacock - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Prey of the Space Falcon - -Author: Wilbur S. Peacock - -Release Date: July 3, 2020 [EBook #62546] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREY OF THE SPACE FALCON *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="347" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> -<h1>Prey of the Space Falcon</h1> - -<h2>By WILBUR S. PEACOCK</h2> - -<p>The Administrators of the Solar System were<br /> -as deadly as a Hydra-monster to those who sought<br /> -freedom. Then came the Falcon and his outlaw Brood,<br /> -fighting with the strangest weapon the Universe<br /> -had ever seen—only to find that their existence lay<br /> -in the slender hands of a girl with a Judas kiss.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Fall 1943.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Curt Varga watched lazily from a shadowed corner of the Martian -<i>gailang</i> night club, his space-tanned left hand toying with a frosted -glass of <i>cahnde</i>, and his right hand making cryptic marks with a -radi-stylus upon the scrap of gold paper before him.</p> - -<p>Music was a lilting swirl in the air, and his booted foot tapped -unconsciously with the muted rhythm. He smiled at the great-chested -Martians squatted about the dance floor, wondering for the hundredth -time what enjoyment they received from swaying to music they -understood only as a series of harmonic vibrations.</p> - -<p>Over by the circular bar, four Venusians drank stiffly and stolidly of -Venusian <i>cahnde</i>, as they stood knee-deep in their water tanks. Their -skins were wet and slimy, eternally soaked with the fluids flowing from -the glands in their reptilian skins. They watched the good-natured -crowd from beneath nictilian lids, their gazes blank and eerily aloof.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga's throat muscles tightened as he sent his inaudible -questions to his brother in the curtained booth across the room.</p> - -<p>"Is there any suspicion that you are working with me?" he asked. "If -so, then this arrangement must be broken; I can't ruin your career, -too."</p> - -<p>The bean-sized amplifier imbedded so cunningly in the living bone at -his right temple vibrated lightly from the mocking laughter.</p> - -<p>"I think they do, Falcon," Val Varga said lightly. "But it doesn't -matter; somebody has to do the undercover work—and I happen to be -in a position where I can do it with the least suspicion." The voice -softened. "Careers <i>aren't</i> important, anyway. I seem to remember -that Dad had quite a reputation as a bio-chemist, until the Food -Administrators decided his work threatened their dictatorial monopoly. -And as a Commander of the IP, you were slated to go rather high."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga grinned, and suddenly all of the deadly grimness was gone -from his tanned face, and there was only the laughter in his cool grey -eyes and the hint of a swashbuckling swagger to the tilt of his head to -betoken the man.</p> - -<p>"OQ!" he said inaudibly into the amplifier unit. "Now, give me a few -facts."</p> - -<p>"Well," Val's voice steadied, "the IP is still searching for the -Falcon's base; they've got direct orders from Vandor to smash it within -a month, Earth time. The situation is getting rather desperate; gardens -have been found on half a dozen worlds, and the revenue from sale of -vitamins and energy tablets has fallen alarmingly. Unless the base is -found and destroyed, the IP is due for a general shake-up in command -and personnel."</p> - -<p>"Hold it!" Curt said brusquely, glanced at the Martian waiter who -padded along the wall toward him.</p> - -<p>The waiter, grotesquely-chested, round-headed, with his antennae curled -on either side of his great single eye, threaded his way through the -tables, stood solicitously over the Falcon's table. His right antennae -uncurled, its tip lightly darting out to touch the Earthman's wrist.</p> - -<p>"Another <i>cahnde</i>," Curt Varga said loudly. "And a <i>pulnik</i> capsule."</p> - -<p>"<i>Five IP agents just entered</i>," the Martian said, the nerve impulse -emanating from the antennae and travelling along Curt's arm to his -brain, where the impulse was changed into familiar English. "<i>I think -they know you are here.</i>"</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Yen Dal," the Falcon said evenly. "That will do fine."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He leaned indolently back in his chair, his clear gaze utterly -guileless, a lazy hint of careless laughter lifting the corners of -his mobile lips. He tightened the muscles of his belly, shifting -the gun-belt a bit until the dis-gun lay flat along his thigh. He -felt mocking laughter bubbling in his throat, when he saw the IP men -moving inconspicuously about the night club, their keen gaze searching -patiently and eagerly every shadowed corner. The Martian padded -silently away.</p> - -<p>"Things are getting hot, Val," he said into his throat mike. "Yen Dal -just told me that five IP men are searching the place. Better get out -of here before a fight starts."</p> - -<p>"I heard your conversation." Val's voice grew tight and hurried. "Now -listen, Curt," he finished. "As far as I have been able to learn, -the headquarters of the <i>Smothalene</i> Smugglers lies somewhere in -the Sargasso. An Earth renegade, Duke Ringo, is the boss. You've -got to smash those smugglers, and do it quickly, for the worlds are -beginning to believe that the Falcon is the man behind the <i>smothalene</i> -smuggling."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga scowled unconsciously, swirled the liquid about in the -bottom of his <i>cahnde</i> glass. He felt the first pulsings of anger in -his heart, and his grey eyes were no longer cool.</p> - -<p>"I know," he answered brittlely. "Two of my ships rocketed into a trap -on Jupiter's moons last week. They were carrying cargoes of oranges to -the <i>Dahkils</i>, and some woman whose son had died of <i>smothalene</i> gave -information to the IP."</p> - -<p>"I hadn't heard that," Val said slowly, his voice grave.</p> - -<p>"Now, here's the situation," the Falcon said tautly, watching the -unhurried movements of an IP man walking along the long bar. "I have -sold almost enough fruit and vegetables the past three months to -finance buying three more Kent-Horter needle-rockets. My fleet is -almost complete, lacking but a dozen or so ships that I figure will be -the minimum needed to whip the IP. I won't contact you again here, -but will let you know where to meet me later. This place is getting -too hot; I've got a hunch somebody tipped the fact that I use this as -headquarters on Mars. Get out of here as inconspicuously as you can; -then I'll make a run for it, if necessary."</p> - -<p>"OQ, Curt!" Val's voice with subdued. "But take it easy; your job is -too big to be destroyed because you insist on taking chances."</p> - -<p>"Forget it, kid."</p> - -<p>The Falcon finished the liquor in the first glass, sipped slowly at the -fresh <i>cahnde</i> set before him by a noiseless waiter. Deep in his mind -sang a tiny warning voice of danger. But he sat still, waiting for an -opportunity to make a silent escape from the night club that was fast -becoming an IP trap. His keen gaze flicked about the room, finding and -identifying the agents scattered through the crowd.</p> - -<p>He broke the <i>pulnik</i> capsule, rolled the fragrant tobacco in a fresh -paper, lit it with his pocket lighter. He smoked slowly, the glow -shadowing the flat planes of his face, lighting the rugged, almost -brutal, sweep of his jaw. He edged his chair back quietly, tensing the -great muscles of his legs, estimated the distance to the rear door.</p> - -<p>Other than that, he didn't move, for he saw that he was watched by two -agents converging on him from both sides of the swaying dancers on the -floor. He smiled slightly, sat cool and debonair, the leather vest and -silk singlet accenting the wedge of his deep chest and shoulders.</p> - -<p>"<i>Any minute now, Val</i>," he said into his throat amplifier.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The <i>Kaana</i> four-piece orchestra swung into the soft lazy melody of -a century before. Glasses clinked at the bar, and the soft rustle of -laughing conversation made the room seem intimate and warm. Nostalgia -bit at Curt Varga's heart, when he remembered the days not so many -years before when his life had been an ordered thing, when he had not -been a hunted outlaw prowling the spaceways, a price on his head.</p> - -<p>In those days, before his mind had fully matured, he had thought his -life full and untrammelled. He had worn his uniform as an IP Commander -with the bullying swagger his superiors affected. With dis-guns and -a brutal carelessness, he had enforced the commands of Jason Vandor, -Dak Yar and Mezo Yong, the Food Administrators, had forced obedience -from recalcitrant people of a dozen worlds, had been the leader of the -shock-troops that pillaged city after city because they had incurred -the anger of the Triumvirate whose hands controlled the food supplies -of the Solar System.</p> - -<p>Then in his twenty-fifth year, he had seen the foulness of the system -that broke the lives and courage of the inhabitated worlds. He had -seen his father blasted to death for daring to raise his voice against -the tyranny of the Food Administrators. He had seen his older brother -die while fighting to save their father. And a conflict had raged -within him for days; he had fought against the training that had been -instilled within him from the day of his birth.</p> - -<p>From musty records, he had reread the histories of the worlds, had -really <i>understood</i> for the first time the true meaning of freedom. And -in that hour, he had thrown aside all that had been his life, and had -striven to build a new one. In a stolen Kent-Horter, he had prowled the -spaceways, striking at small freighters for supplies and wealth. In -the cold of space, he had stooped like the Falcon for whom he had been -named, and stolen the Food Administrators' supplies time and again.</p> - -<p>And as ever when a leader arises, other men and women came to him as -filings are attracted to a lodestone. Some were renegades, the scum -of the spacelanes, whose only desire was to pillage and rob those who -could not fight back. But others were the peoples of a dozen worlds in -whose minds flowed the desire for freedom, whose only wish was to aid -in a seemingly-hopeless fight against the oppressors. And still others -were the great minds of science and art and living whose lives had been -stifled by rigid rules of living imposed by the Food Administrators.</p> - -<p>Plan after plan had been made and discarded, until one was left that -showed the clever brilliance of its creators. Unlimited wealth was the -one thing needed for a revolution, and the plan showed clearly that way -in which it could be obtained.</p> - -<p>Because they controlled all energy-tablet and vitamin factories, the -Food Administrators held a whip hand over all the worlds. Starvation -was the answer to any trouble that might arise. And should the trouble -become too large to handle with the starvation threat, then the -degenerate remnants of the famous Interplanetary Patrol used their -weapons and brutal methods to enforce the laws.</p> - -<p>The plan reasoned out by Curt Varga and his board of strategy had been -clever enough to avoid all obstacles.</p> - -<p>In a great asteroid, used by the Falcon for his first base, great -rooms had been hollowed by gargantuan dis-guns. These rooms had been -converted into living quarters for the men and women. Once established -there, the men and women had worked for two years to hollow out more -caverns for the growing of fruit and vegetables by hydropony. Still -more rooms were manufactured for the workshops and hangars for the -fitting of a huge space fleet with which the Falcon hoped to smash for -all time the IP and the three men who controlled it.</p> - -<p>And in the passing four years the gigantic task had almost reached -fruition. Dead-black freighters raced the starways, carrying contraband -food to all planets, there unloading, and then returning with all -monies collected to buy more space equipment for the fight that was to -come.</p> - -<p>The Falcon's luck had been phenomenal; he had lost less than two -percent of his men and fleet since the day his plans had been carefully -organized. While IP ships had been blasted out of existence at the -alarming rate of over five per cent a year.</p> - -<p>Of course there had been trouble. There had been the internal -revolution created by the rotten elements of his pirate gang. Blood -had been spilled, and the war had been a deadly one that lasted for -ninety days. Then the Falcon's men had conquered the others by clever -maneuvering, had quashed the civil war at the cost of hundreds of -lives. Telepathy and hypnotism had been used on all of the survivors, -driving all thoughts of greed from their minds, fitting their -mentalities for the task that was a common purpose.</p> - -<p>And there had been the time when the IP had almost closed a trap over -the Food Smugglers' leaders. Only a lucky chance had sprung the trap -too soon, permitting Curt Varga and most of his board of strategy to -escape.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But those things lay in the past. Now a new situation had arisen that -promised to be more destructive to their plans than any IP plot or -internal strife.</p> - -<p><i>Smothalene</i> smugglers had begun to operate again on each planet. Once, -the drug had been outlawed, all sources of the Venusian <i>lanka</i> plant, -from which it was derived, had been blasted from existence. But now the -drug had reappeared, was being smuggled from some secret base, and its -origin could not be found.</p> - -<p>The inhabitated worlds were slowly becoming convinced that the Falcon -and his men were distributing the drug; and such was the horror and -agony the drug inflicted on its users, the peoples of the worlds -had forgotten the good done by the Falcon's men, and were giving -information to the IP as to the movements of the Food Smugglers.</p> - -<p>It had become a war of survival for the Falcon; he had to stamp out the -<i>smothalene</i> smugglers so as to protect himself, his great plan, and -the lives of those who had entrusted their futures to his capable hands.</p> - -<p>Progress had been slow, for the <i>smothalene</i> ring had been so carefully -organized that only the barest of information was obtainable. But -Curt Varga's organization, too, was carefully organized. His spies -and agents had been working for weeks, ferreting out trivial bits of -information, then relaying it back to headquarters where it was sifted -and fitted with exquisite skill and patience.</p> - -<p>For days, the Falcon had prowled the planets, contacting his agents, -obtaining first-hand reports, doing two men's work himself. Now, he -had the clue given him by his brother, and he felt a thrill of success -touching his mind as he thought over his plans for invading the -Sargasso of Space, where the drug ring's headquarters were supposed to -be.</p> - -<p>But the pressing problem of the moment was not the <i>smothalene</i> -smugglers, but rather the saving of himself from the IP men who were -advancing so grimly on his table.</p> - -<p>The Falcon shifted his glance indolently about the room, giving only -an uninterested cursory scrutiny to the agents, then relaxed, his -cigarette canted debonairly between his lips. He glanced about in faked -surprise, when one of the agents seated himself at the table.</p> - -<p>"What the hell do you want?" he asked pleasantly. "There are plenty of -empty tables; when I want company, I'll send out invitations!"</p> - -<p>The agent said nothing; his eyes made a quick inventory of Curt's -lounging body, widening imperceptibly when they saw the casual wornness -of the dis-gun's butt. He nodded at his companion, and the man ranged -himself at the Falcon's left side.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga straightened, feigning anger. "Listen," he said coldly, "I -don't know you, so beat it!"</p> - -<p>The agent at the table opened his hand; a small shield glowed dully in -the palm. "What's your number, Earthman?" he asked heavily.</p> - -<p>The Falcon shrugged, held out his wrist. The agent standing beside the -table lifted a pocket fluorscope tube, trained it on the exposed wrist. -The flesh seemed to dissolve, and numbers glowed bluely from the ulna -bone.</p> - -<p>"X three five one four eight L T," the agent read impersonally. He -twitched off the fluorscope beam; the flesh magically came back into -being. The second agent spoke the numerals and letters into a pocket -vocoder.</p> - -<p>"Hell," the Falcon said, "why didn't you tell me you were IP men? I -haven't done anything wrong!"</p> - -<p>"Who are you, and why the gun?"</p> - -<p>Curt Varga shrugged. "I'm a scavenger, just in for a couple of days. -I always carry a gun; I've got a permit from the IP here on Mars." He -dry-washed his hands nervously. "Look, I don't want any trouble; I'll -help any way I can, if you'll tell me what you want."</p> - -<p>"Shut up!" the seated agent said brittlely, listened to the tinny voice -coming from his vocoder. Then he pocketed the tiny unit, stood slowly. -"Your numbers check," he said slowly. "But don't leave this place -without my permission."</p> - -<p>Without another word, he and his partner walked back to the bar. Curt -Varga sat silently for a moment, feeling the cold sweat on his spine, -breathing a bit fast. He grinned slightly, mockingly, remembering the -hours of pain that had been his when the surgeons of his hidden base -had grafted the ulna of a slain Earthman into his arm after removing -the natural bone. Unconsciously, his right hand lifted, and the -forefinger traced the invisible scars left on his face by the surgeon -whose plastic surgery had changed the shape of his features.</p> - -<p>"I think I passed all right, Val," he said into the microphone imbedded -in the cartilage of his throat. "Take it easy."</p> - -<p>"OQ, Curt," Val answered. "I'm about to get the once over, too."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Falcon's fingers dipped into his pocket, found a bill. He laid -it on the table, came lithely to his feet. He stood there for silent -seconds, watching the crowd that swayed to the music.</p> - -<p>Then he walked toward the bar; and there was in the unconscious swagger -of his stride a love of life and laughter, a hint of the adventurer's -blood that made his home the great sweeps of starway that stretched to -the far horizons of the universe.</p> - -<p>He skirted the swaying dancers on the dance floor, thrust out a -steadying hand to the weaving figure of a Martian <i>boiloong</i> who had -evidently been inhaling <i>gailang</i> gas for too long a period in the -rooms below. The <i>boiloong</i> embraced him drunkenly with a couple of -tentacles, then staggered benignly away, hiccoughing loudly from two of -his three mouths.</p> - -<p>"<i>Cahnde</i>," Curt said to the bartender. The music piled in tiny swirls -of melody in the air, and he absently hummed several notes of it. He -accepted the frosted glass from the bartender, turned, braced his -elbows on the bar. He stood silently, his nerves like taut wire.</p> - -<p>He watched the crowd, permitting his eyes to lift to the alcove -in which his brother sat. He felt a surge of affection for the -man who dared to fight at his side for a principle he did not -clearly understand. They met but once or twice a year, and then -surreptitiously, for Val was on the chemi-staff of the Food -Administrators' greatest vitamin plant. They knew they played a deadly -game, in which the probable reward was death; but such was the mettle -of the brothers, they gave no heed.</p> - -<p>An IP agent jerked the curtain aside on the booth, spoke to the seated -man. The Falcon could barely make out the words, the speech coming -through the amplifier grafted into Val's throat, as they were grafted -into all key man of the Falcon's brood.</p> - -<p>"Declare yourself," the agent snapped.</p> - -<p>"Jak Denton, five four three M R S two nine, on special furlough from -the chemi-staff at Luhr." Val Varga's voice was submissive, resigned, -as befitted those who knew the power of the IP.</p> - -<p>Tiny sparks of anger flared in the depths of the Falcon's grey eyes, -and the muscles swelled across his wide back. But he made no outward -move. "It checks," he heard the agent declare a moment later, and then -the agent stepped from the booth.</p> - -<p>The Falcon smiled slightly, drank slowly from his glass. Then his -fingers tightened spasmodically, and he felt shock traveling over his -lithe body in a nerve-tightening shroud.</p> - -<p>"Get out of here, Val," he snapped earnestly into his throat-mike. "The -showdown is coming."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Time was frozen for the moment. The music dwindled to flat discords, -and the dancers were only a blur at the edge of his line of sight. The -Falcon straightened, set the glass on the bar without turning around, -and braced his wide-spread booted feet. He felt a surge of fear in his -heart, and the muscles of his gun hand were tight and strained. He knew -then that the trap was sprung; it was too late to run.</p> - -<p>Yen Dal, the Martian waiter, was on his knees, his mouth gaping in -soundless agony, held there by a numbing paralysis beam in the hands -of the IP man who had questioned Curt. His single eye rolled in the -ecstasy of pain, and his antennae twisted and writhed with an uncanny -life, as the paralysis beam ripped along each nerve with exquisite -agony. Then a whistle of pain came from his lung orifice, scaled until -it was almost inaudible—and his body threshed in an intolerable spasm -that was horrible to see.</p> - -<p>The Falcon stepped from the bar, circled noiselessly toward the rear -exit, felt panic eating at his nerves, for he knew that Yen Dal could -not hold out much longer.</p> - -<p>He stopped in the shadow of a pillar, seeing the IP agent beside the -door. He turned a bit, gasped, when he saw that the paralysis beam had -been turned off, and that the Martian's antennae was wrapped tightly -about the agent's wrist. Then the agent whirled, and his shrill whistle -ripped the music to scattered shreds.</p> - -<p>"<i>Get that man!</i>" he bellowed. "<i>He's the Falcon!</i>"</p> - -<p>Curt Varga went whirling to one side, and the dis-gun leaped into his -fingers. A needle-ray brushed at his back, and he scythed the agent -down with a withering blast from the dis-gun. Smoke surged from a -naming drapery, where a ray slashed, and then the curtain flaked into -nothingness.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="650" height="442" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>A Venusian screamed in a high thin whistle, dropped below the surface -of the water in which he stood. The music stilled in broken fragments, -and women screamed their fear in panic-stricken voice. Vibrations from -a hundred sets of antennae filled the air with a solid sense of knowing -dread.</p> - -<p>"Shoot that man!" the first agent screamed again, and his voice died in -a choking burbling sound, as the Falcon's shot caught him squarely in -the throat.</p> - -<p>Curt fired without conscious thought, his hand following the dictates -of instinctive thinking, the blazing energy of his gun's discharges -hissing in a blurred stream at the agents firing from behind pillars -and overturned tables.</p> - -<p>An agent came erect, sighed deliberately, died, his head blown -completely from his shoulders by a shot winging from a side booth.</p> - -<p>"Get out of here, Curt!" Val Varga's voice rang high and exalted. "I'll -keep them busy."</p> - -<p>His gun sang again in his hand, and there was something simple and -heroic about the manner in which he stood before the booth on his -crippled twisted legs. He was not a cripple then, not the remnant of a -man the IP had crushed and left for dead years before when he had stood -fighting at his father's side. He was, instead, bright and formidable, -like the licking blade of a cause that fought against superstitious -greed and intolerance.</p> - -<p>"This is my way, Falcon," he called clearly. "Don't let me down."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga sobbed deep in his throat, seeing that last gallant stand of -the man whose deformities and keen brain had made him able to act as a -spy in the Food Adminstrators' stronghold. He spun on his heel, smashed -a Martian to one side with a sweep of his gun-hand, then rayed an agent -to death with a brutal callousness utterly foreign to his nature.</p> - -<p>He plowed through the tables, scattering them and their screaming -occupants, hoping to get to his brother's side before the man was -killed. He cursed in a vicious steady whisper, darted through the -crowd, firing without sighting at the men behind him. He ducked -instinctively, and a network of rays crossed the spot where his head -had been, burning the very air, filling all the room with the stench of -ozone.</p> - -<p>And then he was at Val's side, towering over him, and their guns wove a -barrage before whom Death walked with a steady implacable stride.</p> - -<p>An IP agent screamed, pawed blindly at the shattered remains of his -face, his gun singing an undirected arc of death about the room. Bodies -were lanced with the ray, and the cries of the dead made a ghastly -overtone to the sound of the firing.</p> - -<p>And then Val sagged, caught through the chest with a ray bolt that -held him erect for a fleeting moment. He fell, his free hand clutching -Curt's arm, almost dragging him from his feet. He smiled a bit as he -died, and his voice was barely audible.</p> - -<p>"<i>Make it a good world, Curt</i>," he said, and he was dead.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Falcon straightened, and there was no mercy in his eyes then; there -was only a bleak grief and a hate for those whose utter blind stupidity -and cruelty had brought about such a situation.</p> - -<p>He went forward lightly, his gun blazing in his hand, his face craggy -and stone-like. He never looked back at the huddle which had been his -brother.</p> - -<p>An IP man died in a blast of searing energy that sought him out behind -a pillar, surging through the wood, and then withering him into a -charred and blackened mass. Another agent turned to run, and the -bolt of Curt's dis-gun skewered his back, pinned him to a wall for a -fleeting second, then dropped him in a silent heap.</p> - -<p>Curt whirled, darted toward the rear door. His gun menaced the entire -room, and he was a shifting fading figure as he fled from that room of -death. His eyes were blurred with tears, and his throat was constricted -with grief. At the door, he hesitated briefly, then surged ahead. He -heard the shrill whistles of other IP men in the street before the -night club, and his nerves were tense for the slightest of sounds -betokening hidden watchers in the alleyway.</p> - -<p>He slammed the door behind him, raced down the alley. He tripped, -rolled like a prowling cat, came lithely to his feet again. His hand -brushed at a wall to steady himself, missed its hold, and he lurched to -one side.</p> - -<p>That misstep saved his life. A blazing bolt from a dis-rifle sprayed -molten rock from the alley's floor, swung, tried to catch him in its -range. He fired twice, shooting instinctively, feeling a gladness in -him when he heard the choking death-rattle of the man who had fired.</p> - -<p>He twisted about a corner, ran with a desperate speed, hearing the -growing sounds of pursuit behind. He knew a place of comparative safety -a block away, and he plunged toward it through the moon-lit night.</p> - -<p>Feet were pounding in the street, when he came to a manhole that led -into the unused conduit system of the city. He knew he was watched but -he knew also that he had to make his escape as best he could. He kicked -the rusted latch of the manhole cover free, lifted the lid, shoved -one leg through. Sitting on the manhole rim, he lifted his other leg -through the hole, then braced his hands, and lowered himself so fast he -almost fell.</p> - -<p>The single shot melted the edge of the conduit opening, flecked briefly -at the side of his head, dropped him squarely into a blaze of flame -that seemed to grow out of nowhere and fold him in its embrace.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">II</p> - -<p>The Falcon landed in a sprawling heap, cramped with vertigo, his mind -numb with the shock of the shot that had slapped at the side of his -head. He groped blindly for support, felt the skin ripping from his -hands on the rough metal of the pipe. For seconds, he fought to retain -his senses, finally forced the black shadow of unconsciousness back -from his mind.</p> - -<p>His eyes focused slowly, made out the glow cast through the open -manhole. Only a moment could have passed, for he still heard the -excited calling of his pursuers, and felt the vibrations of men -climbing the outside of the pipe.</p> - -<p>He went at a staggering run down the pipe, guiding himself by the beam -of the radi-light torch he fumbled from his belt. Echoes drummed along -the metal tube from his running feet, and the dull pounding in his head -raced with the sound. He whirled around a bend in the pipe, stopped, -braced himself momentarily on the curved wall. Then, the ringing in his -head slowing, and his mind clearing, he ran again at a faster pace.</p> - -<p>The yells of his pursuers rocketed through the tube, slowly gaining. -But a thin smile twisted the Falcon's mouth; he had a bolt-hole or two -that were unknown to any but him, holes that had saved his life before.</p> - -<p>He slipped now and then in the greasy seepage at the pipe's bottom, -came again to his feet, feeling strength draining from him, realizing -that the shot had almost put a partial stasis on his nervous system.</p> - -<p>He ran slower now, utterly unable to keep up the headlong pace. His -breath was hot and dry in his throat, and a heart-pain in his side -cramped his belly. He staggered again and again, until at last he could -move only at a fast walk.</p> - -<p>The agents gained, crying their pack call like Martian <i>ganths</i> running -a lowland creature to death in a canal bottom. Their boots slammed -driving echoes from the pipe, growing louder with each passing second.</p> - -<p>The Falcon knew that he could run no further; he leaned against the -wall, checked the charge in his gun. A mirthless laugh grated in his -throat, and he felt futility beating at his heart for the first time in -years.</p> - -<p>"<i>Make it a good world, Curt!</i>" Val had said.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga fought then, fought the dizziness in his mind, struggled -with the defeat he felt in his heart. He had a task to do; not for -himself, not for his martyred brothers and father—but for a dozen -worlds to whom he and his brood had become a symbol of hope in a -blackened century.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He spun about, seeking a manhole opening, saw none. He did not know -where he was, for there were no identifying marks in the tube. He -thought swiftly, but his thoughts seemed to move with a treacly -slowness. Then he lifted his gun, flicked it to full force, blasted a -hole through the side of the conduit.</p> - -<p>Metal flowed in a crimson stream, grew turgid, hardened with the -queerness of the native iron. Great blisters reared on the Falcon's -hands as he clawed his way from the tube. He fell to the ground -outside, blinked, tried to find his directions by some distinctive -landmark. He gasped, whirled back to the pipe.</p> - -<p>He had come squarely into the parking plaza at the rear of the -spaceport at the edge of the city. Before him, guards had whirled, were -running toward him, already clawing for the guns at their waists. And -even as he turned, he heard the excited cries of the agents inside the -conduit pipe.</p> - -<p>He ran at a zig-zag pace, hugging the shadow of the pipe, toward a -fleet tiny cruiser rolling into its parking place. Darting across a -cleared space of ground, he tugged at the inset port-handle.</p> - -<p>The port surged open from the weight of the air-pressure inside, and -the Falcon dived through, pulling the port shut again. Still in a -crouch, he spun the gun in his hand, jammed it into the side of the -single passenger.</p> - -<p>"Get out of here," he snarled. "Gully-hop this ship—and do it fast."</p> - -<p>"Listen, you—" the pilot began.</p> - -<p>"Either you do—or I do. Now, get going." The Falcon's face was utterly -bleak and cruel, his eyes blazing with the trapped lust of a cornered -wolf.</p> - -<p>Shots slammed against the impervium hull, bounced harmlessly away. The -vizi-screen glowed greenly, and the reflection of the Port Authority -appeared.</p> - -<p>"<i>Take off, and we'll ray you down.</i>"</p> - -<p>The Falcon growled deep in his throat, slammed into the dual control -seat, snapped the control-switch to his side. With a single twitch of -his right hand, he sent the ship flipping skyward.</p> - -<p>The cruiser whipped through the night, inertia momentarily pinning -its passengers to their seats. A beam lanced out from the spaceport, -instantly winked off. The Falcon's hands made lightning adjustments on -the board, and the ship scooted back toward the ground, fled, barely a -hundred feet above the rusty sand.</p> - -<p>The vizi-screen was dull now, reflecting the interior of the port -office—and the Port Authority's voice sang through the speaker.</p> - -<p>"Five IP ships take off. Catch that pleasure cruiser. Use tractors to -bring it down; it isn't armed. Watch out for the man aboard—he's the -Falcon."</p> - -<p>"<i>The Falcon!</i>" Fear was in the voice; the words were barely breathed.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga smiled savagely, glanced around, fully saw his companion for -the first time. He felt a certain sense of amazement; but so much had -happened to him in the past hour, he no longer had the capacity for -complete surprise.</p> - -<p>She was tiny, and the synthesilk dress gloved the soft curves of her -body. Her nose was impudent against the red of her mouth, and fright -was in her bluish-green eyes momentarily. Then she stiffened, and her -eyes were hard with a calculating coldness.</p> - -<p>"I thought kidnaping went out with the dark ages," she said quietly.</p> - -<p>"Miss, this is <i>shipnapping</i>." Ironical humor softened the brutal -harshness of Curt Varga's jaw for the moment.</p> - -<p>And then there was no time for talk, for he was weaving the ship in -a manner that only a space-master could do, flipping the cruiser -about until metal sang in a dozen tones, evading the bluish rays that -fingered from the ships behind.</p> - -<p>He gained the night shadow, circled about on muffled jets, watched the -IP ships flash past him in hot pursuit of their quarry. Then he sent -the cruiser straight back toward the city, angling after a time toward -the mountains to the north. Not a word was spoken until after he had -landed the cruiser close to his own rocket hidden beneath the overhang -of a rusty bluff.</p> - -<p>"Now what?" the girl asked.</p> - -<p>The Falcon killed the rockets, turned about on the seat, conscious for -the first time that he still held his dis-gun against her side with his -left hand.</p> - -<p>He thought fast then, made plans and discarded them with a speed that -raced them kaleidoscopically through his mind. He could leave the girl -tied in the cruiser—but she had seen him, could identify him to the -IP men. Or he could—he shrank from the thought; he was brutal in a -dispassionate way, but he was no murderer.</p> - -<p>"Get out," he snapped.</p> - -<p>Color surged into the girl's face, then faded, leaving the skin a -sickly white. She shrank from him, pressing against the far wall.</p> - -<p>"I read it in your eyes," she whispered. "You were thinking of -<i>killing</i> me!"</p> - -<p>The Falcon flushed angrily, more at himself than at the girl, hating -himself for thinking such thoughts, hating the twisted years that had -warped him to the point that he acted like the scum he had weeded from -among his men.</p> - -<p>"Get out," he said again, and his voice was softer. "I mean you no -harm." He flicked a glance from the port, toward the sky where the -violet beams of mass-detectors probed the sky and earth.</p> - -<p>She slid from the seat, took the two steps to the port, opened it with -a surge of lithe strength. She dropped to the ground, followed by the -Falcon. There was a puzzled fear in her eyes, a fear that grew by the -moment as she saw the sleek Kent-Horter quiescent on the sand.</p> - -<p>The Falcon stepped lithely about his prisoner, whistled with a queerly -distorted note, and the port came automatically open. He gestured with -the gun, impatience flaming in his eyes as she hesitated.</p> - -<p>"Walk—or be carried," he warned grimly.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The girl scrambled into the pirate ship. Curt Varga stepped in behind -her, dogged the door shut with almost casual flicks of his right hand. -He urged the girl before him with the gun, waved her into a sleeping -cubicle, then pulled the door shut, locked it.</p> - -<p>Holstering the dis-gun, he raced to the pilot room, slid into the -pilot's seat. He warmed the rockets with brief twitches of his fingers -on the control studs, then pulled the drive switch a third of the way -back.</p> - -<p>He felt the thrust of the rockets against his body, saw the brief -flicker of the girl's ship whipping past the port. Then his ship was -fleeing with accelerating speed into the tenuous atmosphere.</p> - -<p>A dis-cannon rolled the ship, almost sent it on beam's end. He -straightened her, poured the power into the Kent converters, -flicked out of range with amazing ease. Air whistled through the -purifying-system, and he cut the rheostat down a bit when the reading -gave an Earth-norm.</p> - -<p>Then, and only then, did he relax. He set a reading into the -calculator, flicked on the robot control, and walked slowly back to the -sleeping cubicle he had momentarily made into a cell.</p> - -<p>"Come on out, now," he said, swung the door fully open.</p> - -<p>She had been crying, and the defiant gesture with which she tried to -hide that fact built a tiny warm glow in Curt Varga's heart. But he -didn't permit that feeling to show; he knew he had to keep the girl -more or less cowed, if he were to have no trouble with her.</p> - -<p>"Come on," he said again. "We'll declare a truce for the time."</p> - -<p>She stepped past him, walked toward the pilot's room. He followed, -liking her unconscious swagger which matched his own. She refused to -sit, and he took one empty seat, regarded her quizzically, as he rolled -a <i>pulnik</i> cigarette.</p> - -<p>"Who are you?" he said at last.</p> - -<p>Puzzlement kindled in the girl's eyes, was as quickly erased.</p> - -<p>"I'm Jean—Harlon," she said slowly. She gestured about the ship. "Why -did you kidnap me?"</p> - -<p>The Falcon laughed, and youth was in his face again, some of the bitter -lines softening and erasing utterly away.</p> - -<p>"It wasn't planned," he admitted. "I was being chased—I saw your ship -taxiing into a parking place—and I commandeered it." He shrugged. "You -just happened to be the ship's pilot."</p> - -<p>Amusement lifted the girl's mouth for a moment, then concern deepened -the blue of her eyes. She glanced at the calculator, saw that a course -had been set, and a tiny muscle twitched in her throat.</p> - -<p>"I'm going with you!" It was a statement.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga nodded. "Sorry," he said, "but that's the way it has to be. -Only two men knew my identity—and they're dead. The few IP's who saw -me tonight are also dead. It's a safety measure."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon stiffened slightly. "I could give my word," she said slowly.</p> - -<p>The Falcon shook his head. "Sorry, but the stakes are too big for me -to risk another's word." He nodded at the empty seat. "Sit down," he -finished kindly. "In some ways, I'm not quite as bad as I am painted."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga tensed, felt the probing finger of thought digging at his -mind. He threw up a mind-shield almost casually, grinned mockingly.</p> - -<p>"A <i>telepath</i>?" he said conversationally.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Irritation colored the girl's cheeks; then reluctant admiration came -into her eyes. She accepted a <i>pulnik</i> capsule, deftly rolled a -cigarette, before answering.</p> - -<p>"Not many could dismiss me that easily," she asserted. "I had five -years at NYU, on Earth." She accepted a light for the cigarette.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga nodded. "Old habit," he disclaimed. "I used to play -space-rocketry with the thought-men of Pluto; the guy with an -unshielded mind never had a chance."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon's gaze was speculative. "What happened?" she said. "Or am I -stepping on your toes?"</p> - -<p>The Falcon's face was twisted then with a show of emotion that brought -a glance of disbelief from the girl. And then resolve flared in the set -of his shoulders, and his voice was steady.</p> - -<p>"I was making agent-contacts. One of my men must have tipped the IP, -for they came into my 'headquarters' and made a quiet search. I would -have got away, but for the fact they used that diabolic paralysis beam -on a friend of mine. He pointed me out." Curt shrugged. "I had to fight -my way from the trap. My brother was killed. I escaped through the -conduit system, came out on the spaceport. You know the rest."</p> - -<p>"Your brother was killed!" Loathing was in Jean Harlon's eyes. "And you -can sit there, and talk calmly about it?"</p> - -<p>Anger and grief unsteadied the Falcon's voice for a moment.</p> - -<p>"What the hell should I do—beat my chest and swear vengeance! Val -knew the cards were stacked against us; he knew that both of us had -lived past our appointed times. He played the game as he saw it, and -died with few regrets. Hell, yes, I can talk calmly; now I've got a -job to do, I've got to finish the thing for which he and hundreds of -thousands of others have died!"</p> - -<p>He turned to the space-scanner, saw that the Kent-Horter had escaped -the IP ships, felt the burning of unshed tears in his eyes. He sat -silently for a moment, then whipped about as the girl's words caught at -his mind.</p> - -<p>"—dreaming fools," she was saying. "What <i>more</i> could they ask than -they already have. They eat, they sleep, they have amusements and -medical care. Their lives are as perfect as science can make them."</p> - -<p>"<i>Science!</i>" Curt Varga's tone flicked like a whip-lash. "You can't run -people's lives as though they were bits of unfeeling machinery. Every -man has the right to control his own destiny."</p> - -<p>Anger was in Jean Harlon's face then, too. "You blind atavistic fool," -she blazed, "people cannot rule themselves! Read your histories, find -in them the truth about self-government. Why, until science took the -reins of power, millions died in ghastly wars for fanatical leaders -whose greed for world dictatorial power was an insane fixation."</p> - -<p>The Falcon's face was like chiseled granite. He silenced the girl with -a brief motion of his hand. His voice was grave with the strength of -his heart-felt belief in the thing he had made his life.</p> - -<p>"I have no desire to convert you," he said quietly. "Conversion comes -to but a few. You've got to know deep in your heart that what I say is -the truth. There were wars, holocausts started by the mad dictators of -the Twentieth Century. But when they were over, then democracy began -to win the long struggle that had always been hers. And although other -wars came through the years, always life became better for all peoples. -But then science became a <i>master</i> instead of a <i>servant</i>, and the few -rulers of science became the rulers of the universe. That would have -been all right, had the rule been a beneficient one—but it was twisted -and distorted by the descendants of our hereditary Food Administrators -until it throttled and murdered all initiative and ambition and -free-thinking. It strangled God-given <i>freedom</i>."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga went suddenly silent, feeling the red creeping upward from -his collar. He avoided the girl's eyes, crushed out the still butt of -his cigarette.</p> - -<p>"Sorry," he said. "I guess speech-making is getting to be a habit."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon did not move, but her eyes searched every plane of the -pirate's face.</p> - -<p>"You really <i>believe</i> that, don't you?" she said wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"I do!" The Falcon's voice was calm. "And so do millions of others -throughout the planets. And soon the day will come when all peoples -shall rule themselves. I'm not the man who will bring about the change; -I am but the nucleus, that about which the change is centered. When I -am gone, another will take my place, and another, and another, until -people shall be free, their eyes to the sun."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon moved slowly, breaking the Falcon's words. There was -neither belief nor disbelief in her eyes; there was only the warm -awareness that before her sat a man whose heart held an ideal and his -mind a plan.</p> - -<p>"You are a strange man, Falcon," she breathed. "But you're not quite -the same as I had pictured you in my mind. Oddly enough, I am not -afraid of you now."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Curt Varga grinned. "That's a point in my favor, anyway," he said. -"I've never kidnapped a girl before; I wasn't certain just what I'd -have to do to calm you." He shrugged. "You will go through a certain -amount of discomfort," he finished, "but you will be safe—and I'll -notify your family of your safety."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon's eyes were suddenly hooded. "I have no relatives," she -admitted. "So I'll just string along with you, until you realize I'm -perfectly harmless and permit me to return to Earth or Mars."</p> - -<p>"That will be—" the Falcon began, then whipped about to the port, as -the ship rocked as though shaken by a gust of wind.</p> - -<p>"What's wrong?" Jean asked anxiously, peered out, too. "Why, it's a -tractor beam—coming from that bare asteroid!"</p> - -<p>"Watch!" the Falcon said quietly.</p> - -<p>The pale-green beam lanced like a misty cone from the rough surface of -a craggy boulder that sprang upward from the asteroid like a towering -skyscraper. The pocked, rubbled surface of the asteroid glittered -metallically in the faint sun-glow, great rocky spires rearing -fantastically, mountainous boulders perched in reckless confusion over -the pitted surface of the ground.</p> - -<p>Weight was almost instantly doubled in the ship, as the tractor -beam caught the ship in its grip. Curt adjusted the gravity shield -to counteract the beam's force on himself and Jean. The rockets had -stopped their steady drumming, and the Falcon explained.</p> - -<p>"It's a variation of the standard inertia-tractor beam. Energy of -flight is nullified by the inertia beam, which neutralizes all rocket -power. And the tractor beam is swinging us toward the asteroid."</p> - -<p>Jean shivered. "It happened so fast!" she said slowly.</p> - -<p>The seconds slipped by, and there was the sensation of falling. The -cruiser swung more and more toward the great boulder, descending -swiftly. There was no sound, only the steady dragging of gravity on the -ship from the pale beam. Absently, the Falcon cleared the board before -him, cutting all switches.</p> - -<p>And then a giant hole flowed open in the top of the huge boulder, and -the pirate ship was whisked into a slanting radi-lighted tunnel.</p> - -<p>"<i>Hollow!</i>" Jean said. "So this is the Pirate's Base!" She frowned. -"But if it is hollow, why doesn't gravitic stress rip it to pieces?"</p> - -<p>The Falcon still peered from the port. "We use a neutron-weld invented -by Schutler. Using the weld, the skin of the Base could be but a foot -thick, and still would not rupture nor permit the atmosphere to leak."</p> - -<p>"Schutler! But he was executed five years ago."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga shook his head. "No, Schutler is still alive; his twin -brother took his place before the firing squad."</p> - -<p>Horror was in the girl's eyes. "You mean that you <i>forced</i> him to -sacrifice his life?"</p> - -<p>The Falcon's tone was grimly brooding. "A man does what he thinks is -right."</p> - -<p>"But such a thing <i>isn't right</i>," Jean Harlon said defiantly.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga turned, his face like chiseled granite. "Do you know why -Schutler was sentenced to be executed?"</p> - -<p>"Of course—treason."</p> - -<p>The Falcon's grin was raw savagery.</p> - -<p>"He invented a growth-stimulator which brought plants to full maturity -in five days from seed-planting. The Food Administrators' empire might -have toppled."</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon stepped back, anger in her face. "I don't believe it," she -declared. "I happen to know the true factor."</p> - -<p>The Falcon shrugged, glanced again through the port. Slowly the anger -fled Jean's face—and a brooding puzzlement remained.</p> - -<p>The cruiser settled with a tiny jar, lurched slightly, came to rest. -Metal rasped outside, and the entrance port began to open. The Falcon -came from his seat, nodded toward the port.</p> - -<p>"Was that the truth?" Jean Harlon asked.</p> - -<p>"Of course! I have no reason for lying. Now, let's get out of here; -I've a report to make."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Three men waited outside the open port; and the first, a massive -bearded giant, caught Curt in a casual hug that whitened his smeared -face.</p> - -<p>"You lucky devil!" he roared. "Been in another scrap—and got away by -the skin of your teeth. Damn, but I'd like a good fight!"</p> - -<p>The Falcon grinned, shoved his way from the giant's arms.</p> - -<p>"Damn it, Schutler," he snapped affectionately, "you'll kill me some -day with those hugs of yours!"</p> - -<p>Schutler laughed, tugged at his beard. "Come on," he said. "I've got an -experi—"</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute, squirt," the second man said. "Now, listen, Curt, did -you make the contacts you—"</p> - -<p>The negro brushed the others impatiently aside, tugged at Curt's arm. -He smiled, and his teeth were a solid bar of white across ebony.</p> - -<p>"Come on with me, Boss," he ordered. "You've got some cleaning up to -do."</p> - -<p>"Dammit, Curt—" Schutler began petulantly.</p> - -<p>"Curt, those reports mus—" the second man said impatiently.</p> - -<p>The Falcon gestured wearily. "That can wait for a time, Crandal. Right -now, I need food and a bit of medical care." He grinned. "Anyway, I've -a guest to show around the Base."</p> - -<p>"A guest?" Schutler asked.</p> - -<p>"Come out, Jean," Curt Varga called. Jean Harlon stepped from the lock, -utterly lovely and feminine. She stared with puzzled eyes at the men -standing with the Falcon.</p> - -<p>"Why do you <i>permit</i> such liberties with the men you rule?" she asked.</p> - -<p>Schutler laughed delightedly, the sound rolling and booming. "A new -convert, Curt?" he said, then laughed again, and swept the startled -girl into the circle of his arms. "Welcome to the snake's den," he -finished happily.</p> - -<p>Jean gasped in amazement, fought unsuccessfully to free herself from -the burly arms, then subsided in a gale of infectious laughter. The -Falcon grinned, tugged her free.</p> - -<p>"You've met Schutler," he said. "This bald-headed old space-buzzard is -Crandal, better known as the Encyclopedia. And this other is Jericho -Jones, my number one mate."</p> - -<p>The wizened man bobbed his head nervously. "Glad to know you, Miss," he -said. "Now, Curt, about those reports."</p> - -<p>"Howdedo, Miss," Jericho said, smiled toothily.</p> - -<p>Schutler shoved forward. "How was the kid brother, Curt? Is he still -dishing out the—" His voice trailed away, his gaze flicking about the -group. "Sorry, Curt," he finished gently. "He was a good man."</p> - -<p>The Falcon swallowed painfully, forced a smile, wincing a bit from the -hands of the men where they touched his arms.</p> - -<p>"He made his choice," he said slowly, and the words were like an eulogy.</p> - -<p>He shrugged. "Take Jean to the women's quarters, Schutler," he finished -unemotionally. "Later, she and I will dine together." He made an almost -imperceptible gesture with one hand, and the giant's eyes widened in -surprise.</p> - -<p>"Sure, Curt," Schutler agreed. "We'll walk part-way with you."</p> - -<p>"I don't think—" Jean began, then fell silent.</p> - -<p>The Falcon grinned. "Everything's under control," he said reassuringly. -"There are plenty of Earth women there. They'll fix you up with -clothes or whatever you need."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, Falcon," Jean said, but fear was flickering again in her -blue-green eyes.</p> - -<p>They walked down a gentle ramp, crossed on a suspended walk to a -web-tier that hugged one wall of the gigantic room. Jean peered about -in quiet excitement, open amazement in her face when she saw the -hundreds of fighting ships cradled in rows. She watched the men that -worked with a methodical thoroughness upon the gleaming hulls, fitting -the coppery muzzles of space-cannon into place. Carts darted here and -there on soundless wheels, carrying supplies to piles that never grew, -because other men immediately and without hurry emptied the piles in -steady streams into the holds of waiting ships.</p> - -<p>Long radi-light tubes striped the ceiling three hundred feet overhead, -filled the room with the clear yellow glow of Earth sunlight. There -was an air of competence and efficiency about the scene that was -compellingly impressive.</p> - -<p>"A <i>throg</i>!" Jean gasped in sudden terror.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Curt glanced down at the spider man who minced daintily along on -his fragile hairy legs. His double-facetted eyes glanced toward the -suspension-walk, and two of his legs lifted in salute. A piercing -vibrational whistle followed. Curt grinned, whistled an answer in a -series of flatted notes, waved.</p> - -<p>"That's Lilth," he explained. "He's a good guy, even if he is a -Ganymedian. His family starved to death because they could not mine -enough <i>xalthium</i>." He gestured toward a gigantic slug inching along -the floor, pulling a loaded cart. "That's a Venusian <i>gastod</i>," he -finished. "He is utterly helpless and harmless. He is also the only -<i>gastod</i> not in captivity. His race exuded pure vitamin K from their -bodies, so the Food Administrators imprisoned the entire race. He is a -pirate here and does what he can—for oddly enough he has a brain and a -soul."</p> - -<p>They had crossed the bridge and walked slowly down a lighted tunnel. -The tube debouched into a great amphitheater, at the mouth of which -the group halted for a moment. Shouts, whistles, hissings came from -the groups of men before them. In a gigantic pool of steaming water, -Venusian reptile-men swam with loud splashing. On the field at the -right of the pool, Earthmen played space-ball, their tiny hand-tractors -lancing pale-green rays at a floating gravity-neutralized sphere. The -beams made a network of power that spun the copper ball like an air -bubble in a whirlpool.</p> - -<p>Spider men sat side by side, curling their legs beneath their globular -bodies, then nipping them out again, a few at a time. Gravely they -compared the numbers flipped out, then paid their wagers from piles of -money at their sides.</p> - -<p>Cat men from the tombs of Mars played Martian chess with their -traditional enemies, the big-chested Upland <i>boiloongs</i> whose tentacles -were like living ropes of steel. Creatures from a dozen worlds watched -or played or rested, singly and in groups, about the gargantuan room.</p> - -<p>"They're my men," The Falcon said proudly, feelingly. "And regardless -of body-form, each is a <i>man</i>. They're the Falcon's Brood."</p> - -<p>He led the way again, returning hearty greetings in a dozen tongues, -waving, laughing, answering a hundred questions. At the edge of the -room, near a tunnel's mouth, he turned to the girl who was strangely -silent.</p> - -<p>"I'll meet you for dinner in an hour," he promised. "Then I'll show you -through the gardens."</p> - -<p>"Fine!" Jean smiled, turned to follow the solicitous Schutler.</p> - -<p>Crandal watched her go. "So she is not a convert," he said. "Then why -bring her along?"</p> - -<p>"She recognized me," the Falcon said simply, nodded good-bye, followed -Jericho down another tunnel to his living quarters.</p> - -<p>He walked into the three-room apartment, strode directly to the -vocoder. Flicking a switch, he spoke quietly.</p> - -<p>"A trap on Mars was set for me; have you heard any reports."</p> - -<p>A voice answered with the methodical thoroughness of a trained agent. -"Yen Dal died an hour ago of nerve shock caused by an IP's paralysis -beam. The man who informed the IP was executed by our Martian agent -thirty minutes later. That is all."</p> - -<p>"Good!" the Falcon said grimly, closed the switch. He turned to the -silent negro. "A <i>cahnde</i>, Jericho," he finished tiredly. "Then we'll -doctor me up a bit."</p> - -<p>He sagged in a chair, utterly spent and tired, worn from the constant -strain that was his life every hour of the day. He was no longer the -debonair flashing Falcon; he was only a man to whom life became grimmer -and more danger-filled day by day; a man whose life was in no way his -own.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">III</p> - -<p>Jean Harlon leaned back from the table, sighed blissfully.</p> - -<p>"I never knew," she said, "that such wonderful food existed. Why, that -watermelon was the most delicious thing I've eaten in my life."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga smiled, shoved back his chair. "Let's take a quick look at -the gardens before getting some sleep," he said. "I'll show you such -things as the ordinary person has not seen in more than a century."</p> - -<p>"Swell!" Jean Harlon nodded.</p> - -<p>They walked from the dining hall, entered a side tunnel, followed a -winding ramp toward the center of the asteroid. They chatted aimlessly, -speaking of nothing in particular; and Curt felt a vague pleasure in -him when her eyes reflected her astonishment when she found that he was -educated beyond the average of most men. There was a tang to living at -the moment, and his lithe body felt good and strength-filled, ready to -follow any dictate of his mind.</p> - -<p>They turned right, stepped through a side door, and Jean's tiny gasp of -awe was ample reward for all that Curt had done.</p> - -<p>The air was warm and moist, heady with the oxygen of growing plants. -Great tiers of water tanks rose along the walls, their surfaces thick -with the green and yellow and bright colors of fruits and vegetables -growing in the vitamin-charged hydroponic baths. They seemed to grow -visibly, even as the Earthpeople watched.</p> - -<p>Pipes as thick as a man's arm, bank upon bank, were braced in rows -through the center of the immense room, and thousands of clear bubbles -of water clung to them. The light of gravitic-stasis bulbs glowed deep -in each bubble, and the surfaces of all were threaded with the tender -shoots of growing seedling plants.</p> - -<p>"How utterly incredibly marvelous!" Jean whispered.</p> - -<p>The Falcon nodded proudly. "Ten thousand tons of food go out of this -cavern every day, taken to the starving people of a dozen worlds. It is -not a one man job; it is a tremendous task for hundreds of thousands of -men and women." He pointed to the workers between the rows. "Those are -the ones who are doing the job; those are my people, my friends. They -and all people like them are what I fight for."</p> - -<p>"It's gallant," Jean admitted slowly. "But it's also so incredibly -foolish. A few hundred thousand, or even millions, cannot change the -world we live in. It is far better to take things as they are." She -shuddered involuntarily, as a snake-man glided effortlessly across the -path. "After all, creatures like that shouldn't be permitted to live -like Earthmen."</p> - -<p>The Falcon shrugged, some of the good feeling going from his mind. Then -he plucked a handful of rich dark grapes.</p> - -<p>"Try these," he said. "We've still a lot of sightseeing to do."</p> - -<p>For another hour they walked and talked, meeting the men and women with -whom the Falcon worked. Nowhere was there a fawning attitude because -he was the one whose word was law. There was a tangible feeling of -equality among all the people, a feeling that the girl had never seen -anywhere before.</p> - -<p>She spoke but little, until she saw the great storeroom where the -wealth of a hundred nations was piled in orderly stacks. She saw that -the door had neither lock nor bolt, and her eyes were startled when she -glanced at the tall man at her side.</p> - -<p>"There's no need," he said, understandingly. "This is communal -property. And there are no thieves in the Base. Anyway, if a thief did -appear, he could not escape—an inertia-tractor beam would bring any -ship back before it could get away."</p> - -<p>Jean nodded, and they strolled toward the exit that led to their -apartments. Neither spoke now; both were silent with their thoughts. -A vocoder light was on at a corner box, and the Falcon flicked the -switch.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" he said quietly.</p> - -<p>"A report has just come in, sir," the mechanical voice said evenly. -"The girl whose ship you stole is—"</p> - -<p>The Falcon whirled, feeling the ripping of his dis-gun from his -holster. He whirled in a sudden spin that almost caught Jean Harlon; -and then he came to a sudden halt, the last words of the vocoder -ringing in his mind.</p> - -<p>"—Jean Vandor, the daughter of Jason Vandor, the Food Administrator. -She was attending a dance given by—"</p> - -<p>The Falcon moved with a desperate tigerish speed, his hand lancing out -to snatch the menacing gun. Then the softened ray caught him squarely -in the chest, and the world blanked out.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He came to slowly, then with a rush of surging emotions that were like -icewater to his brain. He rolled to his feet, wobbled unsteadily for a -moment, then darted down the tunnel, running toward the comptroller's -office. Tunnel after tunnel passed behind him, and he could feel the -ragged pounding of his heart, as he raced across the last few yards of -the entrance room.</p> - -<p>He slammed through the door of the office, felt dismay and anger fill -his mind when he saw the dissed wreck of the tractor beam board. Then -he knelt, helped the comptroller to a chair, where the man sagged -groggily.</p> - -<p>The man shook his head. "The girl you came with burst in, demanded to -know which were the tractor controls. I wouldn't tell, but she must -have known, for she rayed them, and then blanked me out."</p> - -<p>The Falcon snarled a curse. "She's a <i>telepath</i>," he said. "She read -your mind." He whirled to a window, peered at the rocket runway that -led into the escape tube. "One ship is gone," he finished harshly. -"Without a tractor to bring her back, she'll take the news straight to -her father. We can't fight the IP with half-gunned ships. I'll have to -run her down."</p> - -<p>"Your ship's been refueled and is ready to go. New radi-batteries are -in the tractor gear." The comptroller roused himself with an effort.</p> - -<p>"You sure you're all right?" Curt asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>"I'm fine."</p> - -<p>"Then tell Schutler and Crandal where I've gone. Tell them my orders -are to triple the men outfitting the ships. I'll be back as soon as I -can—but no move is to be made without my okay. Understand?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>The Falcon whipped about, darted from the office. He ran at top speed, -fitting the dis-gun he had grabbed from a wall rack into his belt -holster. He raced to the conveyor belt, slipped into a seat, flipped -the control to high speed. An instant later, he was hurtling toward his -cradled ship, wind sighing past his face.</p> - -<p>"Damn all women!" he thought. "Especially this one!"</p> - -<p>The walls whizzed by in a grey blur, and thirty seconds later the -conveyor jarred to a bone-shaking stop. Curt flipped the safety -belt aside, dashed for the small cruiser resting in the cradle. He -impatiently brushed aside a slow-moving workman, stepped through the -port. He closed the port entrance, screwed it shut with powerful -heavings of his shoulders, then darted to the control cabin. Sinking -into the seat, he automatically checked the controls.</p> - -<p>"Clear ways," he snapped into the vizi-screen, waited for the "all -clear" signal. A green light flashed to his right, and he closed five -stud switches in close succession. The ship lurched slightly, steadied, -then fled with a rush of displaced air.</p> - -<p>The inertia gate closed behind the ship, and the entrance hole flowed -open. Ahead was the empty blackness of space. The next instant, the -planetoid was far behind, and speed was piling at a terrific rate. Curt -was grateful then to the man who had invented the stasis force-screen, -for at the initial acceleration he had achieved, he should have been -dead. But with all atoms of the ship and its contents building speed at -the same rate, he felt no discomfort.</p> - -<p>He bent toward the vision-port, scanned the Void with slitted eyes. -Stars gleamed with a cold brightness far away. The Sun was at his back, -and far to his right whirled Earth and Mars. Venus and Mercury fled -their celestial ways far below and behind him.</p> - -<p>He swore lightly, built up power in the vision-port, sent a scanner -beam whirling. He missed the stolen ship on the first round of the -beam, caught it on the second try. It was nothing but a tiny spearhead -of yellow flame far ahead.</p> - -<p>The rockets drummed with an increasing roar and muted vibration, as -his fingers flicked the switches and studs before him. And despite -the stasis-field, he felt the slightest sensation of travelling at an -incredible rate of speed.</p> - -<p>The freight ship was obviously moving at top speed, and was fully -eighty thousand miles away. It fled in a parabola, travelling above the -plane of the ecliptic, its speed now so great that it could not make a -sharp turn so as to double back to Earth at Jean Vandor's touch on the -controls.</p> - -<p>Curt grinned. His ship was a cruiser, built for speed, a model that -could outrace the other within a few minutes. He flicked close the last -switch, sank back in his seat, watching the freight ship gradually -drawing closer. He lit a <i>pulnik</i> cigarette, waited, knowing there was -nothing else that he could do for moments.</p> - -<p>Then he frowned, leaned forward. His hands grew white on the control -board from the stress of his emotions, and he felt dull panic striking -at his heart. For the freight ship had swerved, had swung about in an -abnormal way, its rocket flow spinning in a flaming arc.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Curt watched with the sickness eating at his heart, for he knew what -had happened. Inexperienced as she was, Jean had permitted her ship to -be caught within the conflicting tides of gravity in space, and even -now was being pulled in the Sargasso of Space.</p> - -<p>She could not escape; there was no record of anybody ever escaping -the tides. Her only hope lay in Curt Varga, the tractor rays of his -cruiser, and the superior power of his ship.</p> - -<p>He watched the futile struggle of the girl to tear the freighter loose, -saw the ship whip about in a series of surging dives and evolutions -that finally ceased as the ship slowly but surely was dragged into the -midst of the whirlpool.</p> - -<p>And now the two ships were but a few thousands of miles apart. Already, -the gravity streams were tugging at the cruiser, striving to turn its -flight into a diving plunge for the maelstrom's heart. Curt worked -with a desperate calculating intensity, playing the power of the ship -against the tides, as a master machinist judges the power of his tools.</p> - -<p>He sent the cruiser to the left, flicked on the tractor ray, flashed -its probing beam toward the freighter. The beam caught, whipped by, -then flicked back. Curt could feel the instant tugging. He increased -power, felt the shrill whine of the ray-machine building icy fingers in -his brain. Then the sound was past the audible.</p> - -<p>The tides swept over the cruiser, flipped it about like a leaf in a -breeze, almost caused him to lose contact with the freighter. But the -shimmering thread of the tractor's light did not break; the ships were -locked together.</p> - -<p>Curt coaxed the last bit of power from his rockets, sent his ship in -a spiralling drive for free space. He smiled thinly, grimly, when the -tossing of the cruiser lessened. He glanced from the vision port, -wondering if they would get free.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A smashing blow struck the ship, drove it back, set metal to singing. -Curt swore harshly. Space was filled with floating debris captured by -the gravitic tides. Small chunks of meteoric rock flashed by, followed -by clouds of dust as fine as gravel. The bloated, ruptured body of a -space-ship rushed by in the opposite direction, hurled nowhere in its -constant swinging about the area of dead space. Curt winced, when he -caught the starshine on the bulgered bodies that trailed in its wake -like a meteor cloud. He wondered, irrelevantly, who the men were.</p> - -<p>And then from the darkness of space came a great sweeping clot of -debris, the gutter rubbish of the space lanes. Ships that had been -caught in the tides, meteors, rocks, all the flotsam that had been -gathered through the ages.</p> - -<p>But Curt had no time for that. He felt his ship winning free, sent it -whipping to the left again, wondering if his rockets would burn out -under the stupendous strain. And relief filled him, when he realized -that he was pulling the other ship from its death-bed of gravity.</p> - -<p>And even as he laughed, he felt all power cease in his ship.</p> - -<p>He swore brittlely, fought with the controls. All of them were dead. -Panicky, he stared from the vision port, and dull wonder filled his -mind.</p> - -<p>Twin tractor-beams were lancing from the clot of space debris below the -ship, each centered on a different ship. The beams were almost white in -their intensity, so great was their power.</p> - -<p>"What the hell!" Curt Varga said audibly, relaxed momentarily.</p> - -<p>And then the cruiser was hurtling toward the clot, sucked there by -the tractor beam, moved with an incredible titanic force such as was -only possible from a mighty generator. Curt swerved his gaze to the -freighter, saw that it, too, was trapped.</p> - -<p>He thought then of the words that his brother had spoken to him on -Mars before, of the information that had come through about the base -of the drug-smuggling ring being in the Sargasso. He cursed the utter -blind stupidity that had made him discount the words even as they were -spoken. And then puzzlement grew within him, for it was an established -fact that, once caught within the Sargasso, nothing could escape. -How, then, could this be the <i>smothalene</i> smuggling headquarters; the -smuggling ships could not escape the drag of the knitted gravities?</p> - -<p>But he had no more time for thinking. The cruiser jarred squarely into -the center of the clot of debris, was sucked through it. Metal jarred -and strained, and a light flickered into life on the board, indicating -that a plate had been sprung in number Three hold.</p> - -<p>Curt darted for the wall closet, unzipped it, tugged at his bulger. -He slid into it, closed it, left the quartzite face-plate open until -the control room was actually ruptured and the need for air from the -shoulder tank was necessary.</p> - -<p>Outside, rubbish flashed by the ports in a rush of whirling objects. -Except for the crash and clatter of the cruiser forcing its way through -the churning maelstrom, there was no sound.</p> - -<p>The cruiser landed with a jar that threw Curt to one side, dazing him -for a moment. He braced his feet, flipped a dis-gun from the wall -rack, went slowly toward the port. He heard it unscrewing before he -got there, and he cogged his head plate shut, switched on the flow of -oxygen. The port came open, and a radio signal buzzed within Curt's -helmet. He felt the rushing of air from the ship into the Void.</p> - -<p>"Come on out, with your hands up," a heavy voice snapped -authoritatively.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Falcon paused irresolutely, then shrugged, shoved the dis-gun into -a pocket of his bulger. Bending a bit, he stepped from the port, was -menaced instantly by five dis-guns held in the hands of bulger-suited -Earthmen. The leader moved forward, disarmed Curt, stared at him -through the face plate of his spacesuit.</p> - -<p>"I've been hoping we'd meet," he said in surprise. "But I never figured -you'd come popping in like this!" He gestured about. "I'm Duke Ringo; -these are some of my men."</p> - -<p>Curt gazed about, recognized that he stood in the freight hold of a -great liner. The metal was twisted and torn with gravitational strain, -with only one wall intact. Even now, he was being herded toward that -wall.</p> - -<p>"I'm Davis, Kemp Davis," Curt said slowly. "I've been scavenging the -lanes. I was trying to save that freighter, figuring salvage rates, -when your ray brought me in." He affected a dead-face expression. "What -are you men doing here, were you sucked in by the tides?"</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo laughed scornfully. "To hell with that stuff, Falcon!" he -said. "We know who you are; some of us have seen you. And we've got -a—" He broke off, swung about to face another group clambering into -the hold. "Who is it?" he snapped.</p> - -<p>Curt's heart missed a beat; he took an instinctive step forward, -stopped before the menace of a dis-gun. He heard Ringo's voice echoing -tinnily in his earphones, heard another man's answer.</p> - -<p>"It's a <i>girl</i>, Duke."</p> - -<p>"Who, damn it!"</p> - -<p>Jean's voice came dear and cool. "I'm Jean Vandor, daughter of Jason -Vandor. If you have charge of these men, make them take their hands -from me."</p> - -<p>The second group slowly approached the first. The girl evidently -recognized Curt, for her voice held a triumphant ring. "I see you've -captured him," she said. "That's good. The reward for him will make all -of you men rich. He's Curt Varga, Chief of the Food and Smothalene -Pirates."</p> - -<p>"Who'da thought it!" Duke Ringo said in mock amazement, turned away. -"Come on, we'll get back to where it's comfortable."</p> - -<p>"Nice going, Jean," Curt Varga said bitterly. "Because of your sheer -stupidity, we're in a jam that made your former one look infantile. -These boys are part of the <i>smothalene</i> smugglers; we haven't got a -chance."</p> - -<p>"Shut up, Varga," Duke Ringo said curtly.</p> - -<p>Curt subsided, went slowly forward. They entered a small compression -compartment, and Duke cogged a door shut. Air hissed from vents in the -walls, and the pressure gradually mounted. Thirty seconds later, Duke -Ringo unzippered his suit, motioned for the others to do the same. He -lifted a box from one corner of the chamber, handed small nitration -masks about.</p> - -<p>"Stick these on," he said to Curt and Jean. "Otherwise you may find -yourself aging pretty rapidly."</p> - -<p>Curt fitted his mask to his nose, clamped his lips, his eyes flicking -over the group of men. They were tough, as tough as any men he had ever -seen in space. And he felt queasiness in his stomach when he saw the -sheer cold brutality in their eyes when they looked at him. His fists -tightened when he saw the manner in which they regarded Jean.</p> - -<p>"All right, Ringo," Curt said. "Now what's the play?"</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo turned slowly. He was fully as tall as Curt, but he was -bulkier, heavier. He surveyed Curt deliberately out of expressionless -eyes, then turned his gaze to Jean.</p> - -<p>"The young lady," he said, "will be confined to a cabin for a few days. -You, I think, will earn your keep by working at a drier."</p> - -<p>A smuggler laughed openly, subsided when Curt spun toward him.</p> - -<p>"I'm making no threats," Curt said finally. "But don't go looking for -trouble. My men know where I am; they'll be looking for me. You can't -afford to buck them."</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo chuckled. "Don't be childish, Varga," he said. "Your men -wouldn't have a chance in the tides; I only found out how to enter and -get back, by accident. Play nice, and you won't get hurt. Try getting -tough, and—" He spread expressive hands.</p> - -<p>Curt took a stubborn step forward. "Listen, Ringo," he said earnestly, -"my work is important; I've got to get back. I'll make a deal with you."</p> - -<p>Jean pushed forward. "I'll <i>double</i> any bribe he offers you," she told -Ringo, "if you keep him a prisoner for the IP. And I'll <i>triple</i> the -reward, if you get me back to Earth within the next six days."</p> - -<p>"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Duke Ringo clucked his tongue. "Maybe I'll collect a -reward bigger than you think—for turning both of you in later."</p> - -<p>"How much ransom?" the Falcon said resignedly.</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo pondered. "Not much," he admitted. "I just want to take over -your base, your ships, your food-supply." He grinned, opened and shut -his hands. "It looks as if I will."</p> - -<p>Curt leaned forward, drove his right hand with every bit of strength -in his rangy body. He forgot the issues at stake, in the blind rage of -the moment; he thought only of his dreams he saw shattered beneath the -grinding heel of the other's desire. He slashed with a desperate fury, -and skin split on the knuckles of his hand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Duke Ringo went sprawling backward upon the wall, a thin trickle of -blood oozing from a swelling mouth. He swore nastily, came blasting -forward, his right hand catching Curt high on the chest, his left -darting in, smashing at Curt's jaw. Curt rolled with the punch, sagging -backward, then side-stepping. He lashed with both hands, felt a blind -gladness in him when his fists drew gasps of pain from the other. He -waded forward, both hands pistoning, taking blows to his own face that -sent curtains of red pain spinning through his brain.</p> - -<p>And then a savage driving punch caught Duke Ringo squarely in the -throat. He sagged, pawed with both hands at his battered larynx. He -gasped, unable to speak, his face purpling from the effort to breathe.</p> - -<p>Curt darted in, flicked out a hand, caught the exposed dis-gun at -Ringo's belt. He flipped the gun free, whirled, menaced the remaining -men with its flaring muzzle.</p> - -<p>"Back," he snarled, "or I'll cut you down." He nodded at Jean. "Get -behind me," he finished savagely. "This is our only chance to get -free." He was the Falcon then, deadly, dangerous, a light burning in -his eyes.</p> - -<p>Jean moved hesitantly toward Curt, edged around him. The smugglers -said nothing, apparently waiting for the slightest opening in Curt's -offensive. Duke Ringo straightened, his face puffed, air whistling into -his bruised throat.</p> - -<p>"You'll never make it," Ringo said harshly. "Put down that gun."</p> - -<p>Curt laughed mockingly. "I'll take my chances," he said.</p> - -<p>And went cold with horror. For Jean lunged forward, swept the gun -aside, and clung panting to his arm. The next instant, Duke leaned -forward, and clubbed with his knotted fist. The blow caught Curt in the -temple, hurled him to one side. He tried to turn, to spin, even as he -was falling, but the girl's clutch on his arm tripped him. He went to -his knees, his free hand shoving at the floor.</p> - -<p>And then two of the smugglers had dropped on him, were smashing with -heavy fists. Curt drew his legs beneath him, tore his arm free, came -hurtling upward. In the midst of the movement, he saw the boot lashing -at his face. He sobbed deep in his throat, knowing the blow could not -miss. He tensed the muscles of his neck, rolled his head. And the boot -smashed just below his right ear.</p> - -<p>He felt the coolness of the metal flooring on his face, but there was -only a grey blankness before his eyes. He tried to force his body to -his feet, but there was no strength in his arms.</p> - -<p>"Take him below," he heard Duke Ringo say. "Stick him at a drier. And -because he likes to play tough, we'll see just how tough he is. <i>Make -him work without a mask.</i>"</p> - -<p>The Falcon called out, but his voice was only a whisper in his mind. He -felt oblivion reaching for him with talon-like fingers, felt panicky -terror constricting his heart. He knew what the last order meant; and -horror filled his brain. Then hands gripped his body, swung it high. He -tried to fight, and the entire world collapsed in a blaze of white-hot -light.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">IV</p> - -<p>The Falcon was drunk, completely, hilariously drunk. He sang a song -about a girl with golden hair who rode a moonbeam in a race with the -Venusian express, and he stopped now and then to breathe deeply, -completely oblivious of the glances given him by the guards patrolling -the catwalks above the manufacturing room.</p> - -<p>He pressed the slender shoots of <i>lanka</i> weed into the cutters, -drunkenly raked the chopped remnants into a basket. Lurching, he turned -to the great kiln drier, dumped the basket load into the hopper, and -closed the door. He adjusted the rheostat until a needle backed another -on a dial, then went back to the cutter. He leaned against the machine, -idly scratched the back of his neck with one hand, gazed blearily about -the room.</p> - -<p>Then he slipped several vitamin and energy capsules from his pocket -and swallowed them. He felt their quick power sealing through his -body, felt the cloudy numbness lifting from his brain. He fought with -a desperate effort to think clearly and concisely, for he knew that -another few weeks in the <i>smothalene</i> factory would kill him.</p> - -<p>He waited patiently, felt strength coming back to his mind. Men watched -him with a blind calm curiosity, their faces, behind their filtration -masks, indicating their wonder that he should still be as well as he -was after several days in the polluted air of the factory.</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo had kept his threat; the Falcon had been compelled to work -at the <i>lanka</i> weed cutter without a mask. And those seven work periods -had taken their toll of his rugged lithe strength. He was lucky that -the machine filters permitted only the barest trace of the powder -to get into the air, for a breath of the pure drug would kill him -instantly, knotting his body with muscle-ripping cramps.</p> - -<p>The drug, <i>smothalene</i>, was the deadliest aphrodisiac discovered in -more than a century. Its action was swift and diabolic, raising the -rate of metabolism to an incredible height, literally burning the flesh -from the body of the users. Such was its action, the user consumed -fifty times his normal usage of oxygen, and consequently went on an -oxygen-drunk that was more satisfying, more habit-forming, than any -drug that could be found. Its final effect came in a spasmodic, hideous -moment, when the cumulative effects of the drug literally exploded in a -surge of unleashed power. Every bit of energy and life was sucked from -the body, and the corpse became nothing but a desiccated mummy.</p> - -<p>The Falcon thought of that and many things, remembering the brushes -his men had had with the smugglers, recalling the bodies of the -<i>smothalene</i> users he had seen. And he remembered, too, the accusations -hurled at him and his brood, wild accusations that placed him and his -men in the roles of mass murderers—as the <i>smothalene</i> smugglers.</p> - -<p>He gripped the machine edge tightly with whitening hands. He could feel -the life being burned from his body from the tiny bit of the drug his -body had assimilated, sensed the coolness coming to his heated muscles -as the energy tablets fed the speeded metabolism. He knew instinctively -that he had not grown so accustomed to the drug that he could not break -its lecherous hold. All that he needed was a greatly supplemented diet -for the next few days, and then, except for the natural deterioration -of his body during the <i>smothalene</i> binge, he would be as perfectly -conditioned as before.</p> - -<p>A guard leaned over the edge of the catwalk, gestured with a paralysis -gun. "Snap into it, Varga," he roared. "Your period isn't up yet."</p> - -<p>The Falcon nodded, lifted new weeds into the hopper. Benton, the -Earthman working at his side, flicked his gaze warily at the guards, -and his voice was a quiet whisper.</p> - -<p>"Don't be a sap, Falcon," he said. "Walk into a paralysis ray, get it -over with in a hurry."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga shook his head. "Sorry," he said softly, "I've got other -plans."</p> - -<p>Benton smiled derisively. "Yeah? Well, a couple of others thought they -had, too. They got a converter burial in the energy room."</p> - -<p>The Falcon swayed a bit, felt drunkenness creeping into his mind again. -He found and swallowed the last of his energy tablets.</p> - -<p>"Look," he said, "I need the help of everybody in here. I've got a plan -that might work—but this <i>smothalene</i> is burning me so I can't really -think. Collect all the energy tablets the men can spare for me; I'll -use them to stay sober until I bust the place wide open."</p> - -<p>Benton shook his head.</p> - -<p>The Falcon raked weeds into the cutter, glanced about.</p> - -<p>"The guards think I'm drunk all of the time," he whispered. "They don't -worry about me any more; I can do damned near as I please. Get me those -energy tablets, so my mind won't blank out at the last moment, and I'll -guarantee freedom for all of us."</p> - -<p>The Earthman considered gravely for a moment, then nodded doubtfully. -"I'll do what I can, Falcon, only because of your reputation. If your -idea doesn't work, there's little lost, anyway."</p> - -<p>Slowly, he turned, caught up a great oil-can, drifted among the -machines. He talked quietly with worker after worker, finally returned -and handed Varga a double handful of tablets.</p> - -<p>"That's all I could get," he said. "Now what happens?"</p> - -<p>"Watch for your cue." The Falcon dropped the tablets into his pocket, -retaining about a dozen. He swallowed them, felt their cool rush of -energy almost immediately. He unscrewed a vial from beneath a jet.</p> - -<p>Then he proceeded to get very drunk.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His face went slack, his muscles rubbery. He sang in a cracked tenor, -weaved carelessly through the machines, going toward the steps that led -to the catwalk. He staggered drunkenly, almost belligerently righted -himself again and again.</p> - -<p>"Get back to work, Falcon," a guard called, grinned at the slackness of -the pirate's once-erect body.</p> - -<p>"I don' wanna work!" Curt Varga said nastily. "I'm gonna be sick."</p> - -<p>"All right!" The guard jerked his head toward the rest-room. "Be -sick, and then get back to your job." He grinned, as the Falcon came -laboriously up the stairs.</p> - -<p>The Falcon staggered drunkenly toward the rest-room, shoved through -the door, dropped his pretense the moment he was alone. He went -swiftly toward the air-intake grill, worked at its fastenings with a -screwdriver secreted in his boot-top. And as he worked, he thought.</p> - -<p>"<i>Jean</i>," he thought, and his face went white from concentration. -"<i>Jean, this is the Falcon. Listen to me. In a few minutes, I'm going -to release smothalene into the air-system. Put on your mask, and be -ready to run for it.</i>"</p> - -<p>He sent the message again and again, wishing that he had had the -telepathic training to receive as well as send. He had no way of -knowing if the girl could get his message; he had no way of knowing -whether or not she would tell Duke Ringo of his plans.</p> - -<p>The grill plate came loose in his hands, and he lifted the vial of -<i>smothalene</i> powder into the hole revealed. For a second, his hand -remained there, and then he felt the sickness of futility come over -him. He had no mask.</p> - -<p>He stepped back from the wall, pocketed the vial, went toward the -door. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the door ajar, beckoned -drunkenly to the nearest guard.</p> - -<p>"Cummere," he said melodramatically. "I got somethin' to show you."</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" the guard asked suspiciously, and his gun was -bright in his hand.</p> - -<p>"Thieves, that's what it is," the Falcon asserted solemnly. "Cummon, -I'll show you."</p> - -<p>He opened the door wide, turned his back, walked toward the gaping -grill-hole. The guard entered suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"All right," the guard said. "What's up?"</p> - -<p>"See!" the Falcon said, pointed.</p> - -<p>The guard gaped. "Who in hell did that?" he swore angrily. "Now I've -gotta—" He swung about, momentarily forgetting the man with him.</p> - -<p>The Falcon swung with a delicate precision, striking with the -death-blow of a trained IP agent. The guard was dead before his sagging -body was caught in the pirate's strong arms. He never moved.</p> - -<p>The Falcon laid the body gently on the floor, removed the filtration -mask, fitted it to his face. He pulled the coat from the slack arms and -shoulders, carried it with him to the wall. Carefully, he emptied his -vial of the <i>smothalene</i> crystals into the air-tube, covered the hole -with the muffling coat. He stood that way for several minutes, until -he was certain that the dust had been carefully sucked along the pipe. -Then he darted back to the guard, took his gun, and stepped to the door.</p> - -<p>He shot the approaching guard squarely through the throat, the gun -singing its piercing note of death, the instant cry of the guard -disappearing with his throat. Then the Falcon hurdled the body, raced -along the catwalk.</p> - -<p>"Benton," he yelled, "<i>this is it</i>."</p> - -<p>A guard shouted in brief anger, his ray searing a burning streak of -agony along Curt's side. Then the Falcon whirled, dropped to one knee -on the metal flooring, and his gun sang a song of death that didn't -cease.</p> - -<p>Rays lanced from the patrolling guards, and their cries were startled -angry sounds. One went down from the Falcon's ray; another lined his -gun with a deliberate slowness.</p> - -<p>A thrown spanner-wrench crushed in the side of his head, and Benton -raced up the catwalk's steps. He waved two more wrenches at the Falcon.</p> - -<p>"Let's go, Varga," he shouted.</p> - -<p>The Falcon rayed the last two guards to death with a single sweeping -shot that cut them down as though before a scythe. Then he was running -toward the exit.</p> - -<p>"Stay here and organize the men," he yelled back. "Follow as quickly as -possible, and mop up the smugglers still alive."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then he had plunged through the door and was racing down the corridor. -He gagged in sheer horror when he saw the bodies of the smugglers in -the hall and adjacent rooms. They were sere and brown, withered mummies -dressed in clothes sizes too large. Some still twitched feebly in -their last throes. <i>Smothalene</i> had dropped them with their first deep -breaths of the virulent drug.</p> - -<p>He raced on, his feet pounding deafening echoes from the floor, his -gun gripped tightly in his hand. He prayed silently as he ran. And then -he was at the control cabin, skidding to a stop, his gun swivelling to -menace the room. It was empty, except for the sere mummy of a man at -the astrogation table.</p> - -<p>"Damn!" the Falcon swore, swerved about as a footstep sounded at the -door. Then he was holding Jean in his arms, soothing the shaking of her -slender shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Ringo escaped!" the girl cried. "He was making me broadcast a ransom -demand to my father, when I got your message. I grabbed a mask, and -ran. He must have suspected something, for he didn't chase me. I hid, -and watched him running toward the escape hatch. He was wearing a -bulger." She glanced at the mummified man at the table, shuddered, -tears flooding her eyes.</p> - -<p>The Falcon shoved her aside, sprang to the control board. He flicked a -switch, grinned tautly when a needle leaped to instant life. He sat in -the seat, laid his gun aside. Flicking on the vizi-beam, he sent its -scanner ray swirling about outside the dead ship. Almost instantly he -found the tiny cruiser boring toward the outside of the clot of space -debris.</p> - -<p>His hands darted to two levers on the board, drew them back. Tractor -rays leaped into sudden life, spun in pursuit of the fleeing cruiser. -Secondary rays fended off the rubbish that tended to be sucked into the -tractor beams.</p> - -<p>Then the tractors caught the cruiser, caught and held it immovable. It -swung about, almost stopping its direct flight. It bucked and plunged -like a fish on a line, rockets flaring with incredible power to break -the hold. But Curt's hands never gave it a chance. The rays grew whiter -by the second, became almost invisible in their power. And the cruiser -wheeled over, began sinking slowly toward the headquarter's ship.</p> - -<p>The vizi-screen grew silvery, then green, and a face appeared on its -surface.</p> - -<p>"Clever, weren't you, Falcon," Duke Ringo said viciously. "I should -have killed you when I had the chance." His eyes were mad pits of -reddish hell. "I knew something was wrong when the girl made a dash -from me with a mask, but I didn't have time to warn the men, for I -wasn't certain what was happening. Then the <i>smothalene</i> dropped my -mate, and I barely got into a bulger before I had to take a breath. I -had to run for it; I couldn't have fought your entire crowd."</p> - -<p>The Falcon's face was stony and bleak, his eyes impersonal.</p> - -<p>"I'm bringing you back, Ringo, and turning you in."</p> - -<p>"To hell with you, Falcon," Duke Ringo snarled. "When I go out, you go, -too." He laughed. "<i>All right, I'm coming in!</i>"</p> - -<p>The vizi-screen went momentarily black, then the scanner ray cut back -in. Duke Ringo's ship had ceased its futile efforts to escape; now -it was turning, the needle prow centered directly on the smuggling -headquarters. In that one flashing second, the Falcon felt a surge of -admiration for the brutal bravery of the man.</p> - -<p>But there was no time for thinking; there were only a few seconds in -which to act with an instinctive blinding speed. Duke Ringo's ship was -smashing downward now, driving at full-speed throttle, speeding with -the combined power of the tractor rays and the surging drone of its -rockets. It flashed with a speed that increased by the second, became a -diving bullet that could not miss its mark.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga cursed deep in his throat, switched off the tractor beams, -watched the ship smashing in. He cringed from the explosion he knew was -coming, felt terror deep in his mind. Then sanity reasserted itself, -and his hands moved with a flowing speed.</p> - -<p>He flicked on the tractor rays again, sent them spiralling to one side. -They touched a fifty-foot meteor, caught it, spun it into the path of -the hurtling death-ship.</p> - -<p>Duke Ringo tried to swerve the cruiser, failed, for the ship and meteor -struck in a titanic slanting blow. White heat flared for a soundless -moment, force waves pushing outward in the burst of energy. Then the -ship and meteor were one, and in their place was only a fused lump of -metallic refuse that spun endlessly in the Sargasso of Space.</p> - -<p>The Falcon cut all switches, turned slowly about on his seat. He stared -at Benton and the other prisoners who had crowded into the room. He -felt the nearness of the girl at his side, cursed himself for becoming -a sentimental fool.</p> - -<p>"The show's over," he said quietly. "Ringo's dead."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p class="ph1">V</p> - -<p>Fourteen hours later, the Falcon stood before the control board of -his sleek pirate cruiser. Jean was at his side, and they faced the -vizi-screen. Except for a certain amount of lethargy because of the -tiny amount of drug he had inhaled in the <i>smothalene</i> factory, the -Falcon felt all right again. He was dressed in fresh clothes, a new gun -was buckled at his waist. And through the blackness of his hair were -threaded bits of silver the past few days had brought. Jean was dressed -becomingly in some of the Falcon's spare clothes, appearing much like a -rather pretty boy playing in his father's garments.</p> - -<p>"Benton and the others," the Falcon said, "have their orders and -directions for finding the Base. Those of you who did not care to -join me may go where your fancies dictate. Now, don't forget. To free -yourself of the Sargasso, you merely have to hold your ships to the -debris clot with a tractor, and race at full throttle in as large a -circle as you can. When maximum speed is reached, cut the tractor, and -centrifugal force will throw you free. Has everybody got that?"</p> - -<p>Acknowledgments came piling in from the thirty ships gathered about the -Falcon's ship.</p> - -<p>"Then let's go," the Falcon said, and sat at the controls. He flipped -switches, built up speed, finally cut loose, and the Sargasso fled back -behind them.</p> - -<p>The Falcon set the robot-control, sighed relievedly. He grinned at the -girl beside him, liked what he saw in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"I'm doing this against my better judgment, Jean," he said -half-mockingly, half-seriously, "but since you've given me your solemn -oath, I'm willing to take a chance. Anyway, you owe me your life; for -that, you should be willing to keep the Base's location a secret."</p> - -<p>Jean Vandor nodded. "I shall keep my word," she said slowly, then she -sank into a seat, caught at the Falcon's arm. "Please, Curt," she -finished swiftly, "please forget this mad plan of yours! I don't say -you're right or wrong, I just say that the odds are too great for you -to win. Come with me to Earth; my father will see that you are given a -good job where you can be wealthy and respected. I promise you that."</p> - -<p>The Falcon fashioned two <i>pulnik</i> cigarettes, handed one to the girl. -He shook his head slightly, wryly.</p> - -<p>"Sorry," he said, "but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I owe too much -to the people who trust me. And I have a certain sense of integrity -that wouldn't let me sleep nights, should I quit now." He smiled with -the quickening exuberance of a man ten years younger. "Put in a good -word for me, though; I'll maybe need it, if things go wrong."</p> - -<p>Jean Vandor smoked her cigarette silently. "They will go wrong," she -said finally.</p> - -<p>"It's a chance worth taking." The Falcon shrugged. "But tell me of -Ringo's ransom demands; this is the first real chance we've had to -talk, what with wrecking the smuggling headquarters, plundering the -dead ships of the Sargasso, and then making our escape." He grinned. "I -thank you for that, anyway; if you hadn't heard Ringo telling his men -how to escape the gravitic tides, we'd be there, yet."</p> - -<p>Jean nodded. "I heard him give the order when a new recruit was about -to take a ship out. As for the ransom demand; well, Ringo demanded -immunity from the Administrators, and a license to sell <i>smothalene</i> -throughout the system, in return for my release. But as he told me, he -planned to keep me prisoner until all the drug now manufactured was -sold. With myself as a hostage, my father would be helpless to fight -back."</p> - -<p>The Falcon turned to the control board, made minute adjustments, tried -to force a casual tone. He could feel the flush stealing upward from -his open collar.</p> - -<p>"What do you plan to do, once back on Earth?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, I suppose, just the things I did before—well, this entire -affair happened."</p> - -<p>"Are you—" The Falcon came to his feet, walked to the door. "Nothing," -he finished. "I think I'll get a bit of sleep before we land."</p> - -<p>Not waiting for a reply, he walked down the corridor. He hated -himself at the moment, hated himself and the life he lead. In his -mind grew the first nucleus of a doubt that he might be wrong. In all -probability, what he should do, what was the logical thing to do, was -to accept Jean's offer, forget his past, and try to settle back into -the ordered routine of life the Administrator's plans had mapped for -twenty billion people.</p> - -<p>Entering his cabin, he threw himself on the bunk, smoked interminable -cigarettes. And as the hours passed, coherence came to his thoughts, -and the bitterness faded. After a time, he slept.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He woke only when the light tap came on his cabin door.</p> - -<p>"We're landing, Falcon," Jean said breathlessly. "I talked with father, -and he has promised a truce for the period you are on Earth."</p> - -<p>"I'll be right out," Curt Varga said, felt the vague prickle of a -premonitory thrill along his spine. Then he shrugged, climbed from the -bunk, did quick ablutions. Five minutes later, his hand was on the -controls when the cruiser glided to a landing at the spaceport.</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor waited on the field, his purple robe bright in the midst -of his personal bodyguard. He caught Jean in his arms, and the Falcon -felt a certain sense of gladness when he saw the open affection of the -man toward his daughter. Despite his faults, the man was truly a father.</p> - -<p>"So you're the Falcon," Vandor said at last, staring at the pirate from -eyes as blue and chill as ice.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga grinned. "I'm the Falcon," he said calmly. "But I never -thought to meet you under these circumstances."</p> - -<p>"Nor I. But I do offer you thanks, anyway."</p> - -<p>"You owe me nothing; I am here under truce. When I leave, our battle -starts again."</p> - -<p>Vandor smiled. "But you see, Falcon, that is where you are wrong. I -thank you for bringing my daughter back, yes; but I also thank you for -saving my men the trouble of running you down." His hand made a sharp -imperative gesture. "<i>Blank him out</i>," he ordered.</p> - -<p>There was no time to move, no time to think; there was only the split -second of consciousness when he saw the smile of triumph on Vandor's -face, and its mocking echo on the girl's. Then the dis-gun blast caught -the Falcon squarely in its glow, sucked away all thought and dropped -him into a blackened abyss that had no bottom.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Falcon moved groggily, felt nausea cramping at his belly. He -groaned, shook his head, forced himself erect. Chains clanked loudly, -and he felt the coolness of their metal on his arms and legs.</p> - -<p>"Hell!" he said feelingly, felt despair eating at his heart.</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor moved slightly, sighed, then stood from where he sat -across the cell. His grey hair was almost white in the gloom, and his -face was hard and merciless.</p> - -<p>"I want to talk to you, Falcon," he said harshly.</p> - -<p>Curt Varga blinked away his dizziness, searched the cell with his eyes. -Except for two bunks, it was empty. The chains he wore were welded to -the bunk upon which he sat.</p> - -<p>"Go ahead," he said finally. "You seem to have the whip hand."</p> - -<p>"It's about Jean." There was a tiny thread of fear running through the -dictator's voice.</p> - -<p>"All right, what about her?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to do something. She and I just had a terrible fight, the -first I can remember having with her since she was a child. She seems -to think that I was wrong in capturing you while I had a chance. Now, I -know such a request is strange, I know you hate me, but I want you to -talk with her, and convince her that I was in the right. You know our -fight is to the death; you know that neither of us asks quarter; you -know you would have done the same thing had you been in my place. I'm -not asking this for myself; I'm asking for her peace of mind. Her life -will be wrecked, if she hates me as long as she lives."</p> - -<p>The Falcon laughed, and the sound was ugly and ironic in the -semi-darkness. He had met strange situations in his years as a -freebooter of space, but none of them had been as fantastic as this.</p> - -<p>"You honestly mean that you want me, the man you intend to execute, to -intercede for you with your daughter?"</p> - -<p>Panic tightened Jason Vandor's voice. "I'll make it worth your while, -Falcon," he said. "I'll see that you are not executed; I'll see that -you get life. I'll even see that you have all requests granted."</p> - -<p>"To hell with you," the Falcon said dispassionately.</p> - -<p>"Falcon, you've got to listen to me, you've go to. Jean is a girl, -she's been brought up differently than either of us. You and I know -what fighting and death are; you and I have no illusions to temper -our judgments—we are cold intellects. But Jean is young, she has -ideals, and they must not be destroyed. You have appealed to her -instincts for romance; she has colored your actions of the past few -days until you seem to be what you pretend to be. Now I want you to -make her understand that your real desire to crush me and the other -Administrators has nothing romantic about it; you must make her -realize your real purpose—that you plan to become dictator in the -Administrator's place. Will you do that, Falcon?"</p> - -<p>Curt Varga sagged back against the wall, stared blindly at the man -before him. Thoughts were chaotic in his mind.</p> - -<p>"You <i>believe</i> that, don't you, Vandor?" he said slowly.</p> - -<p>"Of course, what else can I believe? Self-government, freedom, bah! The -cattle of the worlds wouldn't know what to do with either."</p> - -<p>The Falcon shifted. "Where is Jean?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"On her way to Mars, where I sent her." Jason Vandor's tone grew harsh -and strained. "I'm making a request, Falcon," he finished, "and I can -be generous in return. But make me force you to talk to her, and I can -do to you just what you would do to me." He laughed without mirth. -"A pitcheblend mine, wearing no protection, might be much worse than -agreeing."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga nodded. "I don't understand you, fully. You're a merciless -butcher—yet you think enough of your daughter to bargain with your -enemy. But I'll do what you say—for my freedom."</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor shook his head. "Not that," he said brittlely. "I have no -desire to fight you a running battle until the final showdown. You're -dead, as far as your past is concerned. But you have your choice of -death; either a slow one in prison, or a hideous one in a mine. Either -way, you will fight me no more."</p> - -<p>"What would I say?"</p> - -<p>"Practically nothing. She swore she would believe what I said, only if -you told her that my statements were the truth. Tell her that over a -vizi-beam, and I promise you a decent prison life."</p> - -<p>"I've sampled your promises."</p> - -<p>"I swear I shall not go back on my word. Jean is the only thing in -life I love; I'll do anything for her." Vandor's words were bitter and -brooding.</p> - -<p>"All right." The Falcon nodded. "I'll speak your pretty little speech. -Not for you; I wouldn't give you water in hell. But for Jean; who at -least hates and fights cleanly and openly." He spat. "Now get me out of -here before I change my mind."</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor stepped forward, tossed a key into Varga's lap. His -concealed hand came from beneath his robe, and a gun glinted dully in -his fist.</p> - -<p>"Cross me, Falcon," he said quietly, "and for every minute of mental -torture you give me, I'll give you a year of the same."</p> - -<p>The Falcon unlocked his chains, stood erect. "I'll speak your piece," -he answered. "But don't make threats."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He walked before the menace of the gun through the open door, followed -the line of radi-lights down the stone corridor. He felt nothing but a -dull apathy within his mind, and he cared nothing for the future. He -knew there was no escape, and the knowledge left him unemotional.</p> - -<p>But then the thought came that Jean had fought on his side, and he felt -warmness spreading through his heart. There was a gulf between them, a -space that would never be spanned. Yet he felt closer to the girl now -than he had felt toward any person other than his brother in years.</p> - -<p>"This way, Falcon," Jason Vandor said.</p> - -<p>They walked a corridor, turned right, entered the vizi-beam room where -operators sat before the machines that connected with all planets.</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor stopped beside a machine. "Get the <i>Ardeth</i> on the beam," -he ordered.</p> - -<p>"Yes, your Lordship!" The beam-man's fingers made clicking contacts -with the machine's controls. The vizi-screen became silvery, slowly -turned green.</p> - -<p>Life grew on the screen. Color swirled, then merged, and Jean Vandor -frowned from the screen.</p> - -<p>"Yes?" she asked.</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor forced the Falcon to the screen with his gun. The Falcon -was conscious then of the utter quiet in the room, as though all were -afraid to breathe. He could feel the pounding of his heart as he -stepped forward.</p> - -<p>"Can you hear me, Jean?" he asked quietly.</p> - -<p>"I can hear you, Curt."</p> - -<p>The Falcon forced all feeling from his voice. "Jean, answer me -truthfully; did you plot that I should be captured?"</p> - -<p>Tears welled in the girl's eyes, and her head shook slightly.</p> - -<p>"No, Curt."</p> - -<p>Curt Varga sighed then, and the ache in his heart was a tangible thing -that hurt with an agony he had not thought possible for a man to feel.</p> - -<p>"Remember the things I told you, Jean? Remember the hopes and dreams -and plans I had?"</p> - -<p>"I remember."</p> - -<p>"Then, Jean, this is the truth. Remember this all of your life; fight -for it, never let it die. <i>Men are born to be free; no man can place -himself in the role of God, there to dictate what—</i>"</p> - -<p>The blow of the gun barrel smashed him to his knees. He knelt there for -seconds, laughing into Jason Vandor's face.</p> - -<p>"I'm a <i>small</i> man, Vandor," the Falcon said. "I can hate and I can -love. But I am true to myself, if nothing else. Get somebody else to do -your lying."</p> - -<p>Jason Vandor's face was a chiseled mask of evil rage. He saw then the -crumbling of the life he had built, saw then the truth that lay in the -Falcon. He knew then that all of the treasures and powers of a hundred -worlds could not replace that which he had lost in those fleeting -seconds.</p> - -<p>He lifted his gun to shoot the defenseless Falcon to death—and died -that way, a dis-ray scything him down in a huddled heap.</p> - -<p>"By damn, a fight at last!" a great voice roared from the doorway, and -Schutler sprang into the room.</p> - -<p>His laughter was mad with the richness of the moment, and the twin -guns were almost buried in the greatness of his fists. Crandal was at -his side, his bald head gleaming, his gun lancing flame like a jet of -glowing water. And behind both, shoving them forward, came Jericho, his -ebony face agleam, a great sword in one hand, a gun in another.</p> - -<p>"<i>Falcon!</i>" Jericho cried, and his gun made an arc through the air, was -caught deftly in the Falcon's reaching hand.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Then hell broke loose in that great room, a hell of a dozen darting -crossing rays of death, a holocaust of power that surged and twisted -and searched for the lives of the men within.</p> - -<p>A guard went down, his gun still holstered, his face blown away by the -left gun of the laughing giant at the door. Crandal darted sideways -like a crab, gun-flame licking out, precisely, almost daintily, never -wasting energy on the wall or air. And Jericho moved like a black -whirlwind, countering the dis-flame of a single guard by touching it -with his sword-blade, and grounding the energy in his power-glove.</p> - -<p>And the Falcon was on his feet, his laughter ringing as in the days of -old, when a fight had been the thing to set a man's blood to pounding, -when to live was a zestful thing of promise, when the future was bright -and the past a gay memory.</p> - -<p>He raced to the side of his men, cutting a guard from his side, raying -a second even as he was lining his gun on Jericho. The Negro grinned, -and his swinging sword fled through the neck of a guard, followed about -and dropped a hand from the wrist of a screaming second.</p> - -<p>Schutler went down, his beard flaming where a bolt had grazed his -chin. He roared like an angry bull, pawed at the flame and smoke of -his burning beard, swept his other hand as a man sprays water. Guards -dropped like flies beneath a poison spray.</p> - -<p>A shot caught Crandal in one leg, dropped him to his knee. His face -went even whiter, and sweat was on his head.</p> - -<p>The Falcon sprang to Crandal's side, caught him up with his left arm, -raised a barrage of shots with the gun in his right. His teeth were -white against the tan of his face, and the cold of his grey eyes was -strange against the laughter that filled his face.</p> - -<p>And the four were together, and no man could stand against them. They -were courage and brains and strength and agility, all together, yet -separate in themselves. Apart, they could be downed; but together, all -hell itself brought mad rich laughter to their throats, and a flame to -their eyes.</p> - -<p>They stood together, and their guns made singing sounds that were like -those from a harp of death. And before those notes men sank and died, -one by one, and two by two, until only living stood beside the door, -and there was no other life.</p> - -<p>"Come, man," Schutler boomed, "before others hear the fight and stick -their noses in!" He fingered the stubble of his beard.</p> - -<p>"Are you all right, Jim?" the Falcon asked Crandal, and the man grinned -with a white-faced smile.</p> - -<p>Jericho caught up the wounded man, ignoring a ray burn that raced like -a livid purple snake across the blackness of his shoulders. He jerked -his head at the door.</p> - -<p>"We come in by a secret passage," he explained in a rush of words. "We -didn't find you in the cells, so we come hunting."</p> - -<p>The Falcon choked back the lump in his throat, and his eyes were misty -as he looked at the men to whom loyalty was neither a word nor a -gesture, only a thing that was in them when the need arose.</p> - -<p>"How—?" he began.</p> - -<p>"I did it, Curt," Jean's voice said.</p> - -<p>Jean was crying then, crying like a child whose first dreams are gone, -crying like one whose new dreams are but the faintest of sounds in -her consciousness. Through the vizi-screen she had seen all that had -happened, and the sickness in her eyes would be long leaving.</p> - -<p>"Jean," the Falcon said. "Please, Jean—"</p> - -<p>She was smiling then, smiling through the tears that would not stop. -And the Falcon, watching her features on the screen, knew the torture -that was hers.</p> - -<p>"I'll be waiting, Curt," she said. "But hurry—Oh, please hurry!"</p> - -<p>"Wait for me, Jean, <i>wait for me</i>."</p> - -<p>And the Falcon and his brood were running down the hall, running toward -the secret spot where a pirate ship waited to take them back to their -fight and their loves and their freedom—and to the far horizons of -their starway destiny.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Prey of the Space Falcon, by Wilbur S. 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Peacock - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Prey of the Space Falcon - -Author: Wilbur S. Peacock - -Release Date: July 3, 2020 [EBook #62546] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PREY OF THE SPACE FALCON *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Prey of the Space Falcon - - By WILBUR S. PEACOCK - - The Administrators of the Solar System were - as deadly as a Hydra-monster to those who sought - freedom. Then came the Falcon and his outlaw Brood, - fighting with the strangest weapon the Universe - had ever seen--only to find that their existence lay - in the slender hands of a girl with a Judas kiss. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Fall 1943. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Curt Varga watched lazily from a shadowed corner of the Martian -_gailang_ night club, his space-tanned left hand toying with a frosted -glass of _cahnde_, and his right hand making cryptic marks with a -radi-stylus upon the scrap of gold paper before him. - -Music was a lilting swirl in the air, and his booted foot tapped -unconsciously with the muted rhythm. He smiled at the great-chested -Martians squatted about the dance floor, wondering for the hundredth -time what enjoyment they received from swaying to music they -understood only as a series of harmonic vibrations. - -Over by the circular bar, four Venusians drank stiffly and stolidly of -Venusian _cahnde_, as they stood knee-deep in their water tanks. Their -skins were wet and slimy, eternally soaked with the fluids flowing from -the glands in their reptilian skins. They watched the good-natured -crowd from beneath nictilian lids, their gazes blank and eerily aloof. - -Curt Varga's throat muscles tightened as he sent his inaudible -questions to his brother in the curtained booth across the room. - -"Is there any suspicion that you are working with me?" he asked. "If -so, then this arrangement must be broken; I can't ruin your career, -too." - -The bean-sized amplifier imbedded so cunningly in the living bone at -his right temple vibrated lightly from the mocking laughter. - -"I think they do, Falcon," Val Varga said lightly. "But it doesn't -matter; somebody has to do the undercover work--and I happen to be -in a position where I can do it with the least suspicion." The voice -softened. "Careers _aren't_ important, anyway. I seem to remember -that Dad had quite a reputation as a bio-chemist, until the Food -Administrators decided his work threatened their dictatorial monopoly. -And as a Commander of the IP, you were slated to go rather high." - -Curt Varga grinned, and suddenly all of the deadly grimness was gone -from his tanned face, and there was only the laughter in his cool grey -eyes and the hint of a swashbuckling swagger to the tilt of his head to -betoken the man. - -"OQ!" he said inaudibly into the amplifier unit. "Now, give me a few -facts." - -"Well," Val's voice steadied, "the IP is still searching for the -Falcon's base; they've got direct orders from Vandor to smash it within -a month, Earth time. The situation is getting rather desperate; gardens -have been found on half a dozen worlds, and the revenue from sale of -vitamins and energy tablets has fallen alarmingly. Unless the base is -found and destroyed, the IP is due for a general shake-up in command -and personnel." - -"Hold it!" Curt said brusquely, glanced at the Martian waiter who -padded along the wall toward him. - -The waiter, grotesquely-chested, round-headed, with his antennae curled -on either side of his great single eye, threaded his way through the -tables, stood solicitously over the Falcon's table. His right antennae -uncurled, its tip lightly darting out to touch the Earthman's wrist. - -"Another _cahnde_," Curt Varga said loudly. "And a _pulnik_ capsule." - -"_Five IP agents just entered_," the Martian said, the nerve impulse -emanating from the antennae and travelling along Curt's arm to his -brain, where the impulse was changed into familiar English. "_I think -they know you are here._" - -"Thank you, Yen Dal," the Falcon said evenly. "That will do fine." - - * * * * * - -He leaned indolently back in his chair, his clear gaze utterly -guileless, a lazy hint of careless laughter lifting the corners of -his mobile lips. He tightened the muscles of his belly, shifting -the gun-belt a bit until the dis-gun lay flat along his thigh. He -felt mocking laughter bubbling in his throat, when he saw the IP men -moving inconspicuously about the night club, their keen gaze searching -patiently and eagerly every shadowed corner. The Martian padded -silently away. - -"Things are getting hot, Val," he said into his throat mike. "Yen Dal -just told me that five IP men are searching the place. Better get out -of here before a fight starts." - -"I heard your conversation." Val's voice grew tight and hurried. "Now -listen, Curt," he finished. "As far as I have been able to learn, -the headquarters of the _Smothalene_ Smugglers lies somewhere in -the Sargasso. An Earth renegade, Duke Ringo, is the boss. You've -got to smash those smugglers, and do it quickly, for the worlds are -beginning to believe that the Falcon is the man behind the _smothalene_ -smuggling." - -Curt Varga scowled unconsciously, swirled the liquid about in the -bottom of his _cahnde_ glass. He felt the first pulsings of anger in -his heart, and his grey eyes were no longer cool. - -"I know," he answered brittlely. "Two of my ships rocketed into a trap -on Jupiter's moons last week. They were carrying cargoes of oranges to -the _Dahkils_, and some woman whose son had died of _smothalene_ gave -information to the IP." - -"I hadn't heard that," Val said slowly, his voice grave. - -"Now, here's the situation," the Falcon said tautly, watching the -unhurried movements of an IP man walking along the long bar. "I have -sold almost enough fruit and vegetables the past three months to -finance buying three more Kent-Horter needle-rockets. My fleet is -almost complete, lacking but a dozen or so ships that I figure will be -the minimum needed to whip the IP. I won't contact you again here, -but will let you know where to meet me later. This place is getting -too hot; I've got a hunch somebody tipped the fact that I use this as -headquarters on Mars. Get out of here as inconspicuously as you can; -then I'll make a run for it, if necessary." - -"OQ, Curt!" Val's voice with subdued. "But take it easy; your job is -too big to be destroyed because you insist on taking chances." - -"Forget it, kid." - -The Falcon finished the liquor in the first glass, sipped slowly at the -fresh _cahnde_ set before him by a noiseless waiter. Deep in his mind -sang a tiny warning voice of danger. But he sat still, waiting for an -opportunity to make a silent escape from the night club that was fast -becoming an IP trap. His keen gaze flicked about the room, finding and -identifying the agents scattered through the crowd. - -He broke the _pulnik_ capsule, rolled the fragrant tobacco in a fresh -paper, lit it with his pocket lighter. He smoked slowly, the glow -shadowing the flat planes of his face, lighting the rugged, almost -brutal, sweep of his jaw. He edged his chair back quietly, tensing the -great muscles of his legs, estimated the distance to the rear door. - -Other than that, he didn't move, for he saw that he was watched by two -agents converging on him from both sides of the swaying dancers on the -floor. He smiled slightly, sat cool and debonair, the leather vest and -silk singlet accenting the wedge of his deep chest and shoulders. - -"_Any minute now, Val_," he said into his throat amplifier. - - * * * * * - -The _Kaana_ four-piece orchestra swung into the soft lazy melody of -a century before. Glasses clinked at the bar, and the soft rustle of -laughing conversation made the room seem intimate and warm. Nostalgia -bit at Curt Varga's heart, when he remembered the days not so many -years before when his life had been an ordered thing, when he had not -been a hunted outlaw prowling the spaceways, a price on his head. - -In those days, before his mind had fully matured, he had thought his -life full and untrammelled. He had worn his uniform as an IP Commander -with the bullying swagger his superiors affected. With dis-guns and -a brutal carelessness, he had enforced the commands of Jason Vandor, -Dak Yar and Mezo Yong, the Food Administrators, had forced obedience -from recalcitrant people of a dozen worlds, had been the leader of the -shock-troops that pillaged city after city because they had incurred -the anger of the Triumvirate whose hands controlled the food supplies -of the Solar System. - -Then in his twenty-fifth year, he had seen the foulness of the system -that broke the lives and courage of the inhabitated worlds. He had -seen his father blasted to death for daring to raise his voice against -the tyranny of the Food Administrators. He had seen his older brother -die while fighting to save their father. And a conflict had raged -within him for days; he had fought against the training that had been -instilled within him from the day of his birth. - -From musty records, he had reread the histories of the worlds, had -really _understood_ for the first time the true meaning of freedom. And -in that hour, he had thrown aside all that had been his life, and had -striven to build a new one. In a stolen Kent-Horter, he had prowled the -spaceways, striking at small freighters for supplies and wealth. In -the cold of space, he had stooped like the Falcon for whom he had been -named, and stolen the Food Administrators' supplies time and again. - -And as ever when a leader arises, other men and women came to him as -filings are attracted to a lodestone. Some were renegades, the scum -of the spacelanes, whose only desire was to pillage and rob those who -could not fight back. But others were the peoples of a dozen worlds in -whose minds flowed the desire for freedom, whose only wish was to aid -in a seemingly-hopeless fight against the oppressors. And still others -were the great minds of science and art and living whose lives had been -stifled by rigid rules of living imposed by the Food Administrators. - -Plan after plan had been made and discarded, until one was left that -showed the clever brilliance of its creators. Unlimited wealth was the -one thing needed for a revolution, and the plan showed clearly that way -in which it could be obtained. - -Because they controlled all energy-tablet and vitamin factories, the -Food Administrators held a whip hand over all the worlds. Starvation -was the answer to any trouble that might arise. And should the trouble -become too large to handle with the starvation threat, then the -degenerate remnants of the famous Interplanetary Patrol used their -weapons and brutal methods to enforce the laws. - -The plan reasoned out by Curt Varga and his board of strategy had been -clever enough to avoid all obstacles. - -In a great asteroid, used by the Falcon for his first base, great -rooms had been hollowed by gargantuan dis-guns. These rooms had been -converted into living quarters for the men and women. Once established -there, the men and women had worked for two years to hollow out more -caverns for the growing of fruit and vegetables by hydropony. Still -more rooms were manufactured for the workshops and hangars for the -fitting of a huge space fleet with which the Falcon hoped to smash for -all time the IP and the three men who controlled it. - -And in the passing four years the gigantic task had almost reached -fruition. Dead-black freighters raced the starways, carrying contraband -food to all planets, there unloading, and then returning with all -monies collected to buy more space equipment for the fight that was to -come. - -The Falcon's luck had been phenomenal; he had lost less than two -percent of his men and fleet since the day his plans had been carefully -organized. While IP ships had been blasted out of existence at the -alarming rate of over five per cent a year. - -Of course there had been trouble. There had been the internal -revolution created by the rotten elements of his pirate gang. Blood -had been spilled, and the war had been a deadly one that lasted for -ninety days. Then the Falcon's men had conquered the others by clever -maneuvering, had quashed the civil war at the cost of hundreds of -lives. Telepathy and hypnotism had been used on all of the survivors, -driving all thoughts of greed from their minds, fitting their -mentalities for the task that was a common purpose. - -And there had been the time when the IP had almost closed a trap over -the Food Smugglers' leaders. Only a lucky chance had sprung the trap -too soon, permitting Curt Varga and most of his board of strategy to -escape. - - * * * * * - -But those things lay in the past. Now a new situation had arisen that -promised to be more destructive to their plans than any IP plot or -internal strife. - -_Smothalene_ smugglers had begun to operate again on each planet. Once, -the drug had been outlawed, all sources of the Venusian _lanka_ plant, -from which it was derived, had been blasted from existence. But now the -drug had reappeared, was being smuggled from some secret base, and its -origin could not be found. - -The inhabitated worlds were slowly becoming convinced that the Falcon -and his men were distributing the drug; and such was the horror and -agony the drug inflicted on its users, the peoples of the worlds -had forgotten the good done by the Falcon's men, and were giving -information to the IP as to the movements of the Food Smugglers. - -It had become a war of survival for the Falcon; he had to stamp out the -_smothalene_ smugglers so as to protect himself, his great plan, and -the lives of those who had entrusted their futures to his capable hands. - -Progress had been slow, for the _smothalene_ ring had been so carefully -organized that only the barest of information was obtainable. But -Curt Varga's organization, too, was carefully organized. His spies -and agents had been working for weeks, ferreting out trivial bits of -information, then relaying it back to headquarters where it was sifted -and fitted with exquisite skill and patience. - -For days, the Falcon had prowled the planets, contacting his agents, -obtaining first-hand reports, doing two men's work himself. Now, he -had the clue given him by his brother, and he felt a thrill of success -touching his mind as he thought over his plans for invading the -Sargasso of Space, where the drug ring's headquarters were supposed to -be. - -But the pressing problem of the moment was not the _smothalene_ -smugglers, but rather the saving of himself from the IP men who were -advancing so grimly on his table. - -The Falcon shifted his glance indolently about the room, giving only -an uninterested cursory scrutiny to the agents, then relaxed, his -cigarette canted debonairly between his lips. He glanced about in faked -surprise, when one of the agents seated himself at the table. - -"What the hell do you want?" he asked pleasantly. "There are plenty of -empty tables; when I want company, I'll send out invitations!" - -The agent said nothing; his eyes made a quick inventory of Curt's -lounging body, widening imperceptibly when they saw the casual wornness -of the dis-gun's butt. He nodded at his companion, and the man ranged -himself at the Falcon's left side. - -Curt Varga straightened, feigning anger. "Listen," he said coldly, "I -don't know you, so beat it!" - -The agent at the table opened his hand; a small shield glowed dully in -the palm. "What's your number, Earthman?" he asked heavily. - -The Falcon shrugged, held out his wrist. The agent standing beside the -table lifted a pocket fluorscope tube, trained it on the exposed wrist. -The flesh seemed to dissolve, and numbers glowed bluely from the ulna -bone. - -"X three five one four eight L T," the agent read impersonally. He -twitched off the fluorscope beam; the flesh magically came back into -being. The second agent spoke the numerals and letters into a pocket -vocoder. - -"Hell," the Falcon said, "why didn't you tell me you were IP men? I -haven't done anything wrong!" - -"Who are you, and why the gun?" - -Curt Varga shrugged. "I'm a scavenger, just in for a couple of days. -I always carry a gun; I've got a permit from the IP here on Mars." He -dry-washed his hands nervously. "Look, I don't want any trouble; I'll -help any way I can, if you'll tell me what you want." - -"Shut up!" the seated agent said brittlely, listened to the tinny voice -coming from his vocoder. Then he pocketed the tiny unit, stood slowly. -"Your numbers check," he said slowly. "But don't leave this place -without my permission." - -Without another word, he and his partner walked back to the bar. Curt -Varga sat silently for a moment, feeling the cold sweat on his spine, -breathing a bit fast. He grinned slightly, mockingly, remembering the -hours of pain that had been his when the surgeons of his hidden base -had grafted the ulna of a slain Earthman into his arm after removing -the natural bone. Unconsciously, his right hand lifted, and the -forefinger traced the invisible scars left on his face by the surgeon -whose plastic surgery had changed the shape of his features. - -"I think I passed all right, Val," he said into the microphone imbedded -in the cartilage of his throat. "Take it easy." - -"OQ, Curt," Val answered. "I'm about to get the once over, too." - - * * * * * - -The Falcon's fingers dipped into his pocket, found a bill. He laid -it on the table, came lithely to his feet. He stood there for silent -seconds, watching the crowd that swayed to the music. - -Then he walked toward the bar; and there was in the unconscious swagger -of his stride a love of life and laughter, a hint of the adventurer's -blood that made his home the great sweeps of starway that stretched to -the far horizons of the universe. - -He skirted the swaying dancers on the dance floor, thrust out a -steadying hand to the weaving figure of a Martian _boiloong_ who had -evidently been inhaling _gailang_ gas for too long a period in the -rooms below. The _boiloong_ embraced him drunkenly with a couple of -tentacles, then staggered benignly away, hiccoughing loudly from two of -his three mouths. - -"_Cahnde_," Curt said to the bartender. The music piled in tiny swirls -of melody in the air, and he absently hummed several notes of it. He -accepted the frosted glass from the bartender, turned, braced his -elbows on the bar. He stood silently, his nerves like taut wire. - -He watched the crowd, permitting his eyes to lift to the alcove -in which his brother sat. He felt a surge of affection for the -man who dared to fight at his side for a principle he did not -clearly understand. They met but once or twice a year, and then -surreptitiously, for Val was on the chemi-staff of the Food -Administrators' greatest vitamin plant. They knew they played a deadly -game, in which the probable reward was death; but such was the mettle -of the brothers, they gave no heed. - -An IP agent jerked the curtain aside on the booth, spoke to the seated -man. The Falcon could barely make out the words, the speech coming -through the amplifier grafted into Val's throat, as they were grafted -into all key man of the Falcon's brood. - -"Declare yourself," the agent snapped. - -"Jak Denton, five four three M R S two nine, on special furlough from -the chemi-staff at Luhr." Val Varga's voice was submissive, resigned, -as befitted those who knew the power of the IP. - -Tiny sparks of anger flared in the depths of the Falcon's grey eyes, -and the muscles swelled across his wide back. But he made no outward -move. "It checks," he heard the agent declare a moment later, and then -the agent stepped from the booth. - -The Falcon smiled slightly, drank slowly from his glass. Then his -fingers tightened spasmodically, and he felt shock traveling over his -lithe body in a nerve-tightening shroud. - -"Get out of here, Val," he snapped earnestly into his throat-mike. "The -showdown is coming." - - * * * * * - -Time was frozen for the moment. The music dwindled to flat discords, -and the dancers were only a blur at the edge of his line of sight. The -Falcon straightened, set the glass on the bar without turning around, -and braced his wide-spread booted feet. He felt a surge of fear in his -heart, and the muscles of his gun hand were tight and strained. He knew -then that the trap was sprung; it was too late to run. - -Yen Dal, the Martian waiter, was on his knees, his mouth gaping in -soundless agony, held there by a numbing paralysis beam in the hands -of the IP man who had questioned Curt. His single eye rolled in the -ecstasy of pain, and his antennae twisted and writhed with an uncanny -life, as the paralysis beam ripped along each nerve with exquisite -agony. Then a whistle of pain came from his lung orifice, scaled until -it was almost inaudible--and his body threshed in an intolerable spasm -that was horrible to see. - -The Falcon stepped from the bar, circled noiselessly toward the rear -exit, felt panic eating at his nerves, for he knew that Yen Dal could -not hold out much longer. - -He stopped in the shadow of a pillar, seeing the IP agent beside the -door. He turned a bit, gasped, when he saw that the paralysis beam had -been turned off, and that the Martian's antennae was wrapped tightly -about the agent's wrist. Then the agent whirled, and his shrill whistle -ripped the music to scattered shreds. - -"_Get that man!_" he bellowed. "_He's the Falcon!_" - -Curt Varga went whirling to one side, and the dis-gun leaped into his -fingers. A needle-ray brushed at his back, and he scythed the agent -down with a withering blast from the dis-gun. Smoke surged from a -naming drapery, where a ray slashed, and then the curtain flaked into -nothingness. - -A Venusian screamed in a high thin whistle, dropped below the surface -of the water in which he stood. The music stilled in broken fragments, -and women screamed their fear in panic-stricken voice. Vibrations from -a hundred sets of antennae filled the air with a solid sense of knowing -dread. - -"Shoot that man!" the first agent screamed again, and his voice died in -a choking burbling sound, as the Falcon's shot caught him squarely in -the throat. - -Curt fired without conscious thought, his hand following the dictates -of instinctive thinking, the blazing energy of his gun's discharges -hissing in a blurred stream at the agents firing from behind pillars -and overturned tables. - -An agent came erect, sighed deliberately, died, his head blown -completely from his shoulders by a shot winging from a side booth. - -"Get out of here, Curt!" Val Varga's voice rang high and exalted. "I'll -keep them busy." - -His gun sang again in his hand, and there was something simple and -heroic about the manner in which he stood before the booth on his -crippled twisted legs. He was not a cripple then, not the remnant of a -man the IP had crushed and left for dead years before when he had stood -fighting at his father's side. He was, instead, bright and formidable, -like the licking blade of a cause that fought against superstitious -greed and intolerance. - -"This is my way, Falcon," he called clearly. "Don't let me down." - -Curt Varga sobbed deep in his throat, seeing that last gallant stand of -the man whose deformities and keen brain had made him able to act as a -spy in the Food Adminstrators' stronghold. He spun on his heel, smashed -a Martian to one side with a sweep of his gun-hand, then rayed an agent -to death with a brutal callousness utterly foreign to his nature. - -He plowed through the tables, scattering them and their screaming -occupants, hoping to get to his brother's side before the man was -killed. He cursed in a vicious steady whisper, darted through the -crowd, firing without sighting at the men behind him. He ducked -instinctively, and a network of rays crossed the spot where his head -had been, burning the very air, filling all the room with the stench of -ozone. - -And then he was at Val's side, towering over him, and their guns wove a -barrage before whom Death walked with a steady implacable stride. - -An IP agent screamed, pawed blindly at the shattered remains of his -face, his gun singing an undirected arc of death about the room. Bodies -were lanced with the ray, and the cries of the dead made a ghastly -overtone to the sound of the firing. - -And then Val sagged, caught through the chest with a ray bolt that -held him erect for a fleeting moment. He fell, his free hand clutching -Curt's arm, almost dragging him from his feet. He smiled a bit as he -died, and his voice was barely audible. - -"_Make it a good world, Curt_," he said, and he was dead. - - * * * * * - -The Falcon straightened, and there was no mercy in his eyes then; there -was only a bleak grief and a hate for those whose utter blind stupidity -and cruelty had brought about such a situation. - -He went forward lightly, his gun blazing in his hand, his face craggy -and stone-like. He never looked back at the huddle which had been his -brother. - -An IP man died in a blast of searing energy that sought him out behind -a pillar, surging through the wood, and then withering him into a -charred and blackened mass. Another agent turned to run, and the -bolt of Curt's dis-gun skewered his back, pinned him to a wall for a -fleeting second, then dropped him in a silent heap. - -Curt whirled, darted toward the rear door. His gun menaced the entire -room, and he was a shifting fading figure as he fled from that room of -death. His eyes were blurred with tears, and his throat was constricted -with grief. At the door, he hesitated briefly, then surged ahead. He -heard the shrill whistles of other IP men in the street before the -night club, and his nerves were tense for the slightest of sounds -betokening hidden watchers in the alleyway. - -He slammed the door behind him, raced down the alley. He tripped, -rolled like a prowling cat, came lithely to his feet again. His hand -brushed at a wall to steady himself, missed its hold, and he lurched to -one side. - -That misstep saved his life. A blazing bolt from a dis-rifle sprayed -molten rock from the alley's floor, swung, tried to catch him in its -range. He fired twice, shooting instinctively, feeling a gladness in -him when he heard the choking death-rattle of the man who had fired. - -He twisted about a corner, ran with a desperate speed, hearing the -growing sounds of pursuit behind. He knew a place of comparative safety -a block away, and he plunged toward it through the moon-lit night. - -Feet were pounding in the street, when he came to a manhole that led -into the unused conduit system of the city. He knew he was watched but -he knew also that he had to make his escape as best he could. He kicked -the rusted latch of the manhole cover free, lifted the lid, shoved -one leg through. Sitting on the manhole rim, he lifted his other leg -through the hole, then braced his hands, and lowered himself so fast he -almost fell. - -The single shot melted the edge of the conduit opening, flecked briefly -at the side of his head, dropped him squarely into a blaze of flame -that seemed to grow out of nowhere and fold him in its embrace. - - - II - -The Falcon landed in a sprawling heap, cramped with vertigo, his mind -numb with the shock of the shot that had slapped at the side of his -head. He groped blindly for support, felt the skin ripping from his -hands on the rough metal of the pipe. For seconds, he fought to retain -his senses, finally forced the black shadow of unconsciousness back -from his mind. - -His eyes focused slowly, made out the glow cast through the open -manhole. Only a moment could have passed, for he still heard the -excited calling of his pursuers, and felt the vibrations of men -climbing the outside of the pipe. - -He went at a staggering run down the pipe, guiding himself by the beam -of the radi-light torch he fumbled from his belt. Echoes drummed along -the metal tube from his running feet, and the dull pounding in his head -raced with the sound. He whirled around a bend in the pipe, stopped, -braced himself momentarily on the curved wall. Then, the ringing in his -head slowing, and his mind clearing, he ran again at a faster pace. - -The yells of his pursuers rocketed through the tube, slowly gaining. -But a thin smile twisted the Falcon's mouth; he had a bolt-hole or two -that were unknown to any but him, holes that had saved his life before. - -He slipped now and then in the greasy seepage at the pipe's bottom, -came again to his feet, feeling strength draining from him, realizing -that the shot had almost put a partial stasis on his nervous system. - -He ran slower now, utterly unable to keep up the headlong pace. His -breath was hot and dry in his throat, and a heart-pain in his side -cramped his belly. He staggered again and again, until at last he could -move only at a fast walk. - -The agents gained, crying their pack call like Martian _ganths_ running -a lowland creature to death in a canal bottom. Their boots slammed -driving echoes from the pipe, growing louder with each passing second. - -The Falcon knew that he could run no further; he leaned against the -wall, checked the charge in his gun. A mirthless laugh grated in his -throat, and he felt futility beating at his heart for the first time in -years. - -"_Make it a good world, Curt!_" Val had said. - -Curt Varga fought then, fought the dizziness in his mind, struggled -with the defeat he felt in his heart. He had a task to do; not for -himself, not for his martyred brothers and father--but for a dozen -worlds to whom he and his brood had become a symbol of hope in a -blackened century. - - * * * * * - -He spun about, seeking a manhole opening, saw none. He did not know -where he was, for there were no identifying marks in the tube. He -thought swiftly, but his thoughts seemed to move with a treacly -slowness. Then he lifted his gun, flicked it to full force, blasted a -hole through the side of the conduit. - -Metal flowed in a crimson stream, grew turgid, hardened with the -queerness of the native iron. Great blisters reared on the Falcon's -hands as he clawed his way from the tube. He fell to the ground -outside, blinked, tried to find his directions by some distinctive -landmark. He gasped, whirled back to the pipe. - -He had come squarely into the parking plaza at the rear of the -spaceport at the edge of the city. Before him, guards had whirled, were -running toward him, already clawing for the guns at their waists. And -even as he turned, he heard the excited cries of the agents inside the -conduit pipe. - -He ran at a zig-zag pace, hugging the shadow of the pipe, toward a -fleet tiny cruiser rolling into its parking place. Darting across a -cleared space of ground, he tugged at the inset port-handle. - -The port surged open from the weight of the air-pressure inside, and -the Falcon dived through, pulling the port shut again. Still in a -crouch, he spun the gun in his hand, jammed it into the side of the -single passenger. - -"Get out of here," he snarled. "Gully-hop this ship--and do it fast." - -"Listen, you--" the pilot began. - -"Either you do--or I do. Now, get going." The Falcon's face was utterly -bleak and cruel, his eyes blazing with the trapped lust of a cornered -wolf. - -Shots slammed against the impervium hull, bounced harmlessly away. The -vizi-screen glowed greenly, and the reflection of the Port Authority -appeared. - -"_Take off, and we'll ray you down._" - -The Falcon growled deep in his throat, slammed into the dual control -seat, snapped the control-switch to his side. With a single twitch of -his right hand, he sent the ship flipping skyward. - -The cruiser whipped through the night, inertia momentarily pinning -its passengers to their seats. A beam lanced out from the spaceport, -instantly winked off. The Falcon's hands made lightning adjustments on -the board, and the ship scooted back toward the ground, fled, barely a -hundred feet above the rusty sand. - -The vizi-screen was dull now, reflecting the interior of the port -office--and the Port Authority's voice sang through the speaker. - -"Five IP ships take off. Catch that pleasure cruiser. Use tractors to -bring it down; it isn't armed. Watch out for the man aboard--he's the -Falcon." - -"_The Falcon!_" Fear was in the voice; the words were barely breathed. - -Curt Varga smiled savagely, glanced around, fully saw his companion for -the first time. He felt a certain sense of amazement; but so much had -happened to him in the past hour, he no longer had the capacity for -complete surprise. - -She was tiny, and the synthesilk dress gloved the soft curves of her -body. Her nose was impudent against the red of her mouth, and fright -was in her bluish-green eyes momentarily. Then she stiffened, and her -eyes were hard with a calculating coldness. - -"I thought kidnaping went out with the dark ages," she said quietly. - -"Miss, this is _shipnapping_." Ironical humor softened the brutal -harshness of Curt Varga's jaw for the moment. - -And then there was no time for talk, for he was weaving the ship in -a manner that only a space-master could do, flipping the cruiser -about until metal sang in a dozen tones, evading the bluish rays that -fingered from the ships behind. - -He gained the night shadow, circled about on muffled jets, watched the -IP ships flash past him in hot pursuit of their quarry. Then he sent -the cruiser straight back toward the city, angling after a time toward -the mountains to the north. Not a word was spoken until after he had -landed the cruiser close to his own rocket hidden beneath the overhang -of a rusty bluff. - -"Now what?" the girl asked. - -The Falcon killed the rockets, turned about on the seat, conscious for -the first time that he still held his dis-gun against her side with his -left hand. - -He thought fast then, made plans and discarded them with a speed that -raced them kaleidoscopically through his mind. He could leave the girl -tied in the cruiser--but she had seen him, could identify him to the -IP men. Or he could--he shrank from the thought; he was brutal in a -dispassionate way, but he was no murderer. - -"Get out," he snapped. - -Color surged into the girl's face, then faded, leaving the skin a -sickly white. She shrank from him, pressing against the far wall. - -"I read it in your eyes," she whispered. "You were thinking of -_killing_ me!" - -The Falcon flushed angrily, more at himself than at the girl, hating -himself for thinking such thoughts, hating the twisted years that had -warped him to the point that he acted like the scum he had weeded from -among his men. - -"Get out," he said again, and his voice was softer. "I mean you no -harm." He flicked a glance from the port, toward the sky where the -violet beams of mass-detectors probed the sky and earth. - -She slid from the seat, took the two steps to the port, opened it with -a surge of lithe strength. She dropped to the ground, followed by the -Falcon. There was a puzzled fear in her eyes, a fear that grew by the -moment as she saw the sleek Kent-Horter quiescent on the sand. - -The Falcon stepped lithely about his prisoner, whistled with a queerly -distorted note, and the port came automatically open. He gestured with -the gun, impatience flaming in his eyes as she hesitated. - -"Walk--or be carried," he warned grimly. - - * * * * * - -The girl scrambled into the pirate ship. Curt Varga stepped in behind -her, dogged the door shut with almost casual flicks of his right hand. -He urged the girl before him with the gun, waved her into a sleeping -cubicle, then pulled the door shut, locked it. - -Holstering the dis-gun, he raced to the pilot room, slid into the -pilot's seat. He warmed the rockets with brief twitches of his fingers -on the control studs, then pulled the drive switch a third of the way -back. - -He felt the thrust of the rockets against his body, saw the brief -flicker of the girl's ship whipping past the port. Then his ship was -fleeing with accelerating speed into the tenuous atmosphere. - -A dis-cannon rolled the ship, almost sent it on beam's end. He -straightened her, poured the power into the Kent converters, -flicked out of range with amazing ease. Air whistled through the -purifying-system, and he cut the rheostat down a bit when the reading -gave an Earth-norm. - -Then, and only then, did he relax. He set a reading into the -calculator, flicked on the robot control, and walked slowly back to the -sleeping cubicle he had momentarily made into a cell. - -"Come on out, now," he said, swung the door fully open. - -She had been crying, and the defiant gesture with which she tried to -hide that fact built a tiny warm glow in Curt Varga's heart. But he -didn't permit that feeling to show; he knew he had to keep the girl -more or less cowed, if he were to have no trouble with her. - -"Come on," he said again. "We'll declare a truce for the time." - -She stepped past him, walked toward the pilot's room. He followed, -liking her unconscious swagger which matched his own. She refused to -sit, and he took one empty seat, regarded her quizzically, as he rolled -a _pulnik_ cigarette. - -"Who are you?" he said at last. - -Puzzlement kindled in the girl's eyes, was as quickly erased. - -"I'm Jean--Harlon," she said slowly. She gestured about the ship. "Why -did you kidnap me?" - -The Falcon laughed, and youth was in his face again, some of the bitter -lines softening and erasing utterly away. - -"It wasn't planned," he admitted. "I was being chased--I saw your ship -taxiing into a parking place--and I commandeered it." He shrugged. "You -just happened to be the ship's pilot." - -Amusement lifted the girl's mouth for a moment, then concern deepened -the blue of her eyes. She glanced at the calculator, saw that a course -had been set, and a tiny muscle twitched in her throat. - -"I'm going with you!" It was a statement. - -Curt Varga nodded. "Sorry," he said, "but that's the way it has to be. -Only two men knew my identity--and they're dead. The few IP's who saw -me tonight are also dead. It's a safety measure." - -Jean Harlon stiffened slightly. "I could give my word," she said slowly. - -The Falcon shook his head. "Sorry, but the stakes are too big for me -to risk another's word." He nodded at the empty seat. "Sit down," he -finished kindly. "In some ways, I'm not quite as bad as I am painted." - -Curt Varga tensed, felt the probing finger of thought digging at his -mind. He threw up a mind-shield almost casually, grinned mockingly. - -"A _telepath_?" he said conversationally. - - * * * * * - -Irritation colored the girl's cheeks; then reluctant admiration came -into her eyes. She accepted a _pulnik_ capsule, deftly rolled a -cigarette, before answering. - -"Not many could dismiss me that easily," she asserted. "I had five -years at NYU, on Earth." She accepted a light for the cigarette. - -Curt Varga nodded. "Old habit," he disclaimed. "I used to play -space-rocketry with the thought-men of Pluto; the guy with an -unshielded mind never had a chance." - -Jean Harlon's gaze was speculative. "What happened?" she said. "Or am I -stepping on your toes?" - -The Falcon's face was twisted then with a show of emotion that brought -a glance of disbelief from the girl. And then resolve flared in the set -of his shoulders, and his voice was steady. - -"I was making agent-contacts. One of my men must have tipped the IP, -for they came into my 'headquarters' and made a quiet search. I would -have got away, but for the fact they used that diabolic paralysis beam -on a friend of mine. He pointed me out." Curt shrugged. "I had to fight -my way from the trap. My brother was killed. I escaped through the -conduit system, came out on the spaceport. You know the rest." - -"Your brother was killed!" Loathing was in Jean Harlon's eyes. "And you -can sit there, and talk calmly about it?" - -Anger and grief unsteadied the Falcon's voice for a moment. - -"What the hell should I do--beat my chest and swear vengeance! Val -knew the cards were stacked against us; he knew that both of us had -lived past our appointed times. He played the game as he saw it, and -died with few regrets. Hell, yes, I can talk calmly; now I've got a -job to do, I've got to finish the thing for which he and hundreds of -thousands of others have died!" - -He turned to the space-scanner, saw that the Kent-Horter had escaped -the IP ships, felt the burning of unshed tears in his eyes. He sat -silently for a moment, then whipped about as the girl's words caught at -his mind. - -"--dreaming fools," she was saying. "What _more_ could they ask than -they already have. They eat, they sleep, they have amusements and -medical care. Their lives are as perfect as science can make them." - -"_Science!_" Curt Varga's tone flicked like a whip-lash. "You can't run -people's lives as though they were bits of unfeeling machinery. Every -man has the right to control his own destiny." - -Anger was in Jean Harlon's face then, too. "You blind atavistic fool," -she blazed, "people cannot rule themselves! Read your histories, find -in them the truth about self-government. Why, until science took the -reins of power, millions died in ghastly wars for fanatical leaders -whose greed for world dictatorial power was an insane fixation." - -The Falcon's face was like chiseled granite. He silenced the girl with -a brief motion of his hand. His voice was grave with the strength of -his heart-felt belief in the thing he had made his life. - -"I have no desire to convert you," he said quietly. "Conversion comes -to but a few. You've got to know deep in your heart that what I say is -the truth. There were wars, holocausts started by the mad dictators of -the Twentieth Century. But when they were over, then democracy began -to win the long struggle that had always been hers. And although other -wars came through the years, always life became better for all peoples. -But then science became a _master_ instead of a _servant_, and the few -rulers of science became the rulers of the universe. That would have -been all right, had the rule been a beneficient one--but it was twisted -and distorted by the descendants of our hereditary Food Administrators -until it throttled and murdered all initiative and ambition and -free-thinking. It strangled God-given _freedom_." - -Curt Varga went suddenly silent, feeling the red creeping upward from -his collar. He avoided the girl's eyes, crushed out the still butt of -his cigarette. - -"Sorry," he said. "I guess speech-making is getting to be a habit." - -Jean Harlon did not move, but her eyes searched every plane of the -pirate's face. - -"You really _believe_ that, don't you?" she said wonderingly. - -"I do!" The Falcon's voice was calm. "And so do millions of others -throughout the planets. And soon the day will come when all peoples -shall rule themselves. I'm not the man who will bring about the change; -I am but the nucleus, that about which the change is centered. When I -am gone, another will take my place, and another, and another, until -people shall be free, their eyes to the sun." - -Jean Harlon moved slowly, breaking the Falcon's words. There was -neither belief nor disbelief in her eyes; there was only the warm -awareness that before her sat a man whose heart held an ideal and his -mind a plan. - -"You are a strange man, Falcon," she breathed. "But you're not quite -the same as I had pictured you in my mind. Oddly enough, I am not -afraid of you now." - - * * * * * - -Curt Varga grinned. "That's a point in my favor, anyway," he said. -"I've never kidnapped a girl before; I wasn't certain just what I'd -have to do to calm you." He shrugged. "You will go through a certain -amount of discomfort," he finished, "but you will be safe--and I'll -notify your family of your safety." - -Jean Harlon's eyes were suddenly hooded. "I have no relatives," she -admitted. "So I'll just string along with you, until you realize I'm -perfectly harmless and permit me to return to Earth or Mars." - -"That will be--" the Falcon began, then whipped about to the port, as -the ship rocked as though shaken by a gust of wind. - -"What's wrong?" Jean asked anxiously, peered out, too. "Why, it's a -tractor beam--coming from that bare asteroid!" - -"Watch!" the Falcon said quietly. - -The pale-green beam lanced like a misty cone from the rough surface of -a craggy boulder that sprang upward from the asteroid like a towering -skyscraper. The pocked, rubbled surface of the asteroid glittered -metallically in the faint sun-glow, great rocky spires rearing -fantastically, mountainous boulders perched in reckless confusion over -the pitted surface of the ground. - -Weight was almost instantly doubled in the ship, as the tractor -beam caught the ship in its grip. Curt adjusted the gravity shield -to counteract the beam's force on himself and Jean. The rockets had -stopped their steady drumming, and the Falcon explained. - -"It's a variation of the standard inertia-tractor beam. Energy of -flight is nullified by the inertia beam, which neutralizes all rocket -power. And the tractor beam is swinging us toward the asteroid." - -Jean shivered. "It happened so fast!" she said slowly. - -The seconds slipped by, and there was the sensation of falling. The -cruiser swung more and more toward the great boulder, descending -swiftly. There was no sound, only the steady dragging of gravity on the -ship from the pale beam. Absently, the Falcon cleared the board before -him, cutting all switches. - -And then a giant hole flowed open in the top of the huge boulder, and -the pirate ship was whisked into a slanting radi-lighted tunnel. - -"_Hollow!_" Jean said. "So this is the Pirate's Base!" She frowned. -"But if it is hollow, why doesn't gravitic stress rip it to pieces?" - -The Falcon still peered from the port. "We use a neutron-weld invented -by Schutler. Using the weld, the skin of the Base could be but a foot -thick, and still would not rupture nor permit the atmosphere to leak." - -"Schutler! But he was executed five years ago." - -Curt Varga shook his head. "No, Schutler is still alive; his twin -brother took his place before the firing squad." - -Horror was in the girl's eyes. "You mean that you _forced_ him to -sacrifice his life?" - -The Falcon's tone was grimly brooding. "A man does what he thinks is -right." - -"But such a thing _isn't right_," Jean Harlon said defiantly. - -Curt Varga turned, his face like chiseled granite. "Do you know why -Schutler was sentenced to be executed?" - -"Of course--treason." - -The Falcon's grin was raw savagery. - -"He invented a growth-stimulator which brought plants to full maturity -in five days from seed-planting. The Food Administrators' empire might -have toppled." - -Jean Harlon stepped back, anger in her face. "I don't believe it," she -declared. "I happen to know the true factor." - -The Falcon shrugged, glanced again through the port. Slowly the anger -fled Jean's face--and a brooding puzzlement remained. - -The cruiser settled with a tiny jar, lurched slightly, came to rest. -Metal rasped outside, and the entrance port began to open. The Falcon -came from his seat, nodded toward the port. - -"Was that the truth?" Jean Harlon asked. - -"Of course! I have no reason for lying. Now, let's get out of here; -I've a report to make." - - * * * * * - -Three men waited outside the open port; and the first, a massive -bearded giant, caught Curt in a casual hug that whitened his smeared -face. - -"You lucky devil!" he roared. "Been in another scrap--and got away by -the skin of your teeth. Damn, but I'd like a good fight!" - -The Falcon grinned, shoved his way from the giant's arms. - -"Damn it, Schutler," he snapped affectionately, "you'll kill me some -day with those hugs of yours!" - -Schutler laughed, tugged at his beard. "Come on," he said. "I've got an -experi--" - -"Wait a minute, squirt," the second man said. "Now, listen, Curt, did -you make the contacts you--" - -The negro brushed the others impatiently aside, tugged at Curt's arm. -He smiled, and his teeth were a solid bar of white across ebony. - -"Come on with me, Boss," he ordered. "You've got some cleaning up to -do." - -"Dammit, Curt--" Schutler began petulantly. - -"Curt, those reports mus--" the second man said impatiently. - -The Falcon gestured wearily. "That can wait for a time, Crandal. Right -now, I need food and a bit of medical care." He grinned. "Anyway, I've -a guest to show around the Base." - -"A guest?" Schutler asked. - -"Come out, Jean," Curt Varga called. Jean Harlon stepped from the lock, -utterly lovely and feminine. She stared with puzzled eyes at the men -standing with the Falcon. - -"Why do you _permit_ such liberties with the men you rule?" she asked. - -Schutler laughed delightedly, the sound rolling and booming. "A new -convert, Curt?" he said, then laughed again, and swept the startled -girl into the circle of his arms. "Welcome to the snake's den," he -finished happily. - -Jean gasped in amazement, fought unsuccessfully to free herself from -the burly arms, then subsided in a gale of infectious laughter. The -Falcon grinned, tugged her free. - -"You've met Schutler," he said. "This bald-headed old space-buzzard is -Crandal, better known as the Encyclopedia. And this other is Jericho -Jones, my number one mate." - -The wizened man bobbed his head nervously. "Glad to know you, Miss," he -said. "Now, Curt, about those reports." - -"Howdedo, Miss," Jericho said, smiled toothily. - -Schutler shoved forward. "How was the kid brother, Curt? Is he still -dishing out the--" His voice trailed away, his gaze flicking about the -group. "Sorry, Curt," he finished gently. "He was a good man." - -The Falcon swallowed painfully, forced a smile, wincing a bit from the -hands of the men where they touched his arms. - -"He made his choice," he said slowly, and the words were like an eulogy. - -He shrugged. "Take Jean to the women's quarters, Schutler," he finished -unemotionally. "Later, she and I will dine together." He made an almost -imperceptible gesture with one hand, and the giant's eyes widened in -surprise. - -"Sure, Curt," Schutler agreed. "We'll walk part-way with you." - -"I don't think--" Jean began, then fell silent. - -The Falcon grinned. "Everything's under control," he said reassuringly. -"There are plenty of Earth women there. They'll fix you up with -clothes or whatever you need." - -"Thank you, Falcon," Jean said, but fear was flickering again in her -blue-green eyes. - -They walked down a gentle ramp, crossed on a suspended walk to a -web-tier that hugged one wall of the gigantic room. Jean peered about -in quiet excitement, open amazement in her face when she saw the -hundreds of fighting ships cradled in rows. She watched the men that -worked with a methodical thoroughness upon the gleaming hulls, fitting -the coppery muzzles of space-cannon into place. Carts darted here and -there on soundless wheels, carrying supplies to piles that never grew, -because other men immediately and without hurry emptied the piles in -steady streams into the holds of waiting ships. - -Long radi-light tubes striped the ceiling three hundred feet overhead, -filled the room with the clear yellow glow of Earth sunlight. There -was an air of competence and efficiency about the scene that was -compellingly impressive. - -"A _throg_!" Jean gasped in sudden terror. - - * * * * * - -Curt glanced down at the spider man who minced daintily along on -his fragile hairy legs. His double-facetted eyes glanced toward the -suspension-walk, and two of his legs lifted in salute. A piercing -vibrational whistle followed. Curt grinned, whistled an answer in a -series of flatted notes, waved. - -"That's Lilth," he explained. "He's a good guy, even if he is a -Ganymedian. His family starved to death because they could not mine -enough _xalthium_." He gestured toward a gigantic slug inching along -the floor, pulling a loaded cart. "That's a Venusian _gastod_," he -finished. "He is utterly helpless and harmless. He is also the only -_gastod_ not in captivity. His race exuded pure vitamin K from their -bodies, so the Food Administrators imprisoned the entire race. He is a -pirate here and does what he can--for oddly enough he has a brain and a -soul." - -They had crossed the bridge and walked slowly down a lighted tunnel. -The tube debouched into a great amphitheater, at the mouth of which -the group halted for a moment. Shouts, whistles, hissings came from -the groups of men before them. In a gigantic pool of steaming water, -Venusian reptile-men swam with loud splashing. On the field at the -right of the pool, Earthmen played space-ball, their tiny hand-tractors -lancing pale-green rays at a floating gravity-neutralized sphere. The -beams made a network of power that spun the copper ball like an air -bubble in a whirlpool. - -Spider men sat side by side, curling their legs beneath their globular -bodies, then nipping them out again, a few at a time. Gravely they -compared the numbers flipped out, then paid their wagers from piles of -money at their sides. - -Cat men from the tombs of Mars played Martian chess with their -traditional enemies, the big-chested Upland _boiloongs_ whose tentacles -were like living ropes of steel. Creatures from a dozen worlds watched -or played or rested, singly and in groups, about the gargantuan room. - -"They're my men," The Falcon said proudly, feelingly. "And regardless -of body-form, each is a _man_. They're the Falcon's Brood." - -He led the way again, returning hearty greetings in a dozen tongues, -waving, laughing, answering a hundred questions. At the edge of the -room, near a tunnel's mouth, he turned to the girl who was strangely -silent. - -"I'll meet you for dinner in an hour," he promised. "Then I'll show you -through the gardens." - -"Fine!" Jean smiled, turned to follow the solicitous Schutler. - -Crandal watched her go. "So she is not a convert," he said. "Then why -bring her along?" - -"She recognized me," the Falcon said simply, nodded good-bye, followed -Jericho down another tunnel to his living quarters. - -He walked into the three-room apartment, strode directly to the -vocoder. Flicking a switch, he spoke quietly. - -"A trap on Mars was set for me; have you heard any reports." - -A voice answered with the methodical thoroughness of a trained agent. -"Yen Dal died an hour ago of nerve shock caused by an IP's paralysis -beam. The man who informed the IP was executed by our Martian agent -thirty minutes later. That is all." - -"Good!" the Falcon said grimly, closed the switch. He turned to the -silent negro. "A _cahnde_, Jericho," he finished tiredly. "Then we'll -doctor me up a bit." - -He sagged in a chair, utterly spent and tired, worn from the constant -strain that was his life every hour of the day. He was no longer the -debonair flashing Falcon; he was only a man to whom life became grimmer -and more danger-filled day by day; a man whose life was in no way his -own. - - - III - -Jean Harlon leaned back from the table, sighed blissfully. - -"I never knew," she said, "that such wonderful food existed. Why, that -watermelon was the most delicious thing I've eaten in my life." - -Curt Varga smiled, shoved back his chair. "Let's take a quick look at -the gardens before getting some sleep," he said. "I'll show you such -things as the ordinary person has not seen in more than a century." - -"Swell!" Jean Harlon nodded. - -They walked from the dining hall, entered a side tunnel, followed a -winding ramp toward the center of the asteroid. They chatted aimlessly, -speaking of nothing in particular; and Curt felt a vague pleasure in -him when her eyes reflected her astonishment when she found that he was -educated beyond the average of most men. There was a tang to living at -the moment, and his lithe body felt good and strength-filled, ready to -follow any dictate of his mind. - -They turned right, stepped through a side door, and Jean's tiny gasp of -awe was ample reward for all that Curt had done. - -The air was warm and moist, heady with the oxygen of growing plants. -Great tiers of water tanks rose along the walls, their surfaces thick -with the green and yellow and bright colors of fruits and vegetables -growing in the vitamin-charged hydroponic baths. They seemed to grow -visibly, even as the Earthpeople watched. - -Pipes as thick as a man's arm, bank upon bank, were braced in rows -through the center of the immense room, and thousands of clear bubbles -of water clung to them. The light of gravitic-stasis bulbs glowed deep -in each bubble, and the surfaces of all were threaded with the tender -shoots of growing seedling plants. - -"How utterly incredibly marvelous!" Jean whispered. - -The Falcon nodded proudly. "Ten thousand tons of food go out of this -cavern every day, taken to the starving people of a dozen worlds. It is -not a one man job; it is a tremendous task for hundreds of thousands of -men and women." He pointed to the workers between the rows. "Those are -the ones who are doing the job; those are my people, my friends. They -and all people like them are what I fight for." - -"It's gallant," Jean admitted slowly. "But it's also so incredibly -foolish. A few hundred thousand, or even millions, cannot change the -world we live in. It is far better to take things as they are." She -shuddered involuntarily, as a snake-man glided effortlessly across the -path. "After all, creatures like that shouldn't be permitted to live -like Earthmen." - -The Falcon shrugged, some of the good feeling going from his mind. Then -he plucked a handful of rich dark grapes. - -"Try these," he said. "We've still a lot of sightseeing to do." - -For another hour they walked and talked, meeting the men and women with -whom the Falcon worked. Nowhere was there a fawning attitude because -he was the one whose word was law. There was a tangible feeling of -equality among all the people, a feeling that the girl had never seen -anywhere before. - -She spoke but little, until she saw the great storeroom where the -wealth of a hundred nations was piled in orderly stacks. She saw that -the door had neither lock nor bolt, and her eyes were startled when she -glanced at the tall man at her side. - -"There's no need," he said, understandingly. "This is communal -property. And there are no thieves in the Base. Anyway, if a thief did -appear, he could not escape--an inertia-tractor beam would bring any -ship back before it could get away." - -Jean nodded, and they strolled toward the exit that led to their -apartments. Neither spoke now; both were silent with their thoughts. -A vocoder light was on at a corner box, and the Falcon flicked the -switch. - -"Yes?" he said quietly. - -"A report has just come in, sir," the mechanical voice said evenly. -"The girl whose ship you stole is--" - -The Falcon whirled, feeling the ripping of his dis-gun from his -holster. He whirled in a sudden spin that almost caught Jean Harlon; -and then he came to a sudden halt, the last words of the vocoder -ringing in his mind. - -"--Jean Vandor, the daughter of Jason Vandor, the Food Administrator. -She was attending a dance given by--" - -The Falcon moved with a desperate tigerish speed, his hand lancing out -to snatch the menacing gun. Then the softened ray caught him squarely -in the chest, and the world blanked out. - - * * * * * - -He came to slowly, then with a rush of surging emotions that were like -icewater to his brain. He rolled to his feet, wobbled unsteadily for a -moment, then darted down the tunnel, running toward the comptroller's -office. Tunnel after tunnel passed behind him, and he could feel the -ragged pounding of his heart, as he raced across the last few yards of -the entrance room. - -He slammed through the door of the office, felt dismay and anger fill -his mind when he saw the dissed wreck of the tractor beam board. Then -he knelt, helped the comptroller to a chair, where the man sagged -groggily. - -The man shook his head. "The girl you came with burst in, demanded to -know which were the tractor controls. I wouldn't tell, but she must -have known, for she rayed them, and then blanked me out." - -The Falcon snarled a curse. "She's a _telepath_," he said. "She read -your mind." He whirled to a window, peered at the rocket runway that -led into the escape tube. "One ship is gone," he finished harshly. -"Without a tractor to bring her back, she'll take the news straight to -her father. We can't fight the IP with half-gunned ships. I'll have to -run her down." - -"Your ship's been refueled and is ready to go. New radi-batteries are -in the tractor gear." The comptroller roused himself with an effort. - -"You sure you're all right?" Curt asked anxiously. - -"I'm fine." - -"Then tell Schutler and Crandal where I've gone. Tell them my orders -are to triple the men outfitting the ships. I'll be back as soon as I -can--but no move is to be made without my okay. Understand?" - -"Yes, sir." - -The Falcon whipped about, darted from the office. He ran at top speed, -fitting the dis-gun he had grabbed from a wall rack into his belt -holster. He raced to the conveyor belt, slipped into a seat, flipped -the control to high speed. An instant later, he was hurtling toward his -cradled ship, wind sighing past his face. - -"Damn all women!" he thought. "Especially this one!" - -The walls whizzed by in a grey blur, and thirty seconds later the -conveyor jarred to a bone-shaking stop. Curt flipped the safety -belt aside, dashed for the small cruiser resting in the cradle. He -impatiently brushed aside a slow-moving workman, stepped through the -port. He closed the port entrance, screwed it shut with powerful -heavings of his shoulders, then darted to the control cabin. Sinking -into the seat, he automatically checked the controls. - -"Clear ways," he snapped into the vizi-screen, waited for the "all -clear" signal. A green light flashed to his right, and he closed five -stud switches in close succession. The ship lurched slightly, steadied, -then fled with a rush of displaced air. - -The inertia gate closed behind the ship, and the entrance hole flowed -open. Ahead was the empty blackness of space. The next instant, the -planetoid was far behind, and speed was piling at a terrific rate. Curt -was grateful then to the man who had invented the stasis force-screen, -for at the initial acceleration he had achieved, he should have been -dead. But with all atoms of the ship and its contents building speed at -the same rate, he felt no discomfort. - -He bent toward the vision-port, scanned the Void with slitted eyes. -Stars gleamed with a cold brightness far away. The Sun was at his back, -and far to his right whirled Earth and Mars. Venus and Mercury fled -their celestial ways far below and behind him. - -He swore lightly, built up power in the vision-port, sent a scanner -beam whirling. He missed the stolen ship on the first round of the -beam, caught it on the second try. It was nothing but a tiny spearhead -of yellow flame far ahead. - -The rockets drummed with an increasing roar and muted vibration, as -his fingers flicked the switches and studs before him. And despite -the stasis-field, he felt the slightest sensation of travelling at an -incredible rate of speed. - -The freight ship was obviously moving at top speed, and was fully -eighty thousand miles away. It fled in a parabola, travelling above the -plane of the ecliptic, its speed now so great that it could not make a -sharp turn so as to double back to Earth at Jean Vandor's touch on the -controls. - -Curt grinned. His ship was a cruiser, built for speed, a model that -could outrace the other within a few minutes. He flicked close the last -switch, sank back in his seat, watching the freight ship gradually -drawing closer. He lit a _pulnik_ cigarette, waited, knowing there was -nothing else that he could do for moments. - -Then he frowned, leaned forward. His hands grew white on the control -board from the stress of his emotions, and he felt dull panic striking -at his heart. For the freight ship had swerved, had swung about in an -abnormal way, its rocket flow spinning in a flaming arc. - - * * * * * - -Curt watched with the sickness eating at his heart, for he knew what -had happened. Inexperienced as she was, Jean had permitted her ship to -be caught within the conflicting tides of gravity in space, and even -now was being pulled in the Sargasso of Space. - -She could not escape; there was no record of anybody ever escaping -the tides. Her only hope lay in Curt Varga, the tractor rays of his -cruiser, and the superior power of his ship. - -He watched the futile struggle of the girl to tear the freighter loose, -saw the ship whip about in a series of surging dives and evolutions -that finally ceased as the ship slowly but surely was dragged into the -midst of the whirlpool. - -And now the two ships were but a few thousands of miles apart. Already, -the gravity streams were tugging at the cruiser, striving to turn its -flight into a diving plunge for the maelstrom's heart. Curt worked -with a desperate calculating intensity, playing the power of the ship -against the tides, as a master machinist judges the power of his tools. - -He sent the cruiser to the left, flicked on the tractor ray, flashed -its probing beam toward the freighter. The beam caught, whipped by, -then flicked back. Curt could feel the instant tugging. He increased -power, felt the shrill whine of the ray-machine building icy fingers in -his brain. Then the sound was past the audible. - -The tides swept over the cruiser, flipped it about like a leaf in a -breeze, almost caused him to lose contact with the freighter. But the -shimmering thread of the tractor's light did not break; the ships were -locked together. - -Curt coaxed the last bit of power from his rockets, sent his ship in -a spiralling drive for free space. He smiled thinly, grimly, when the -tossing of the cruiser lessened. He glanced from the vision port, -wondering if they would get free. - - * * * * * - -A smashing blow struck the ship, drove it back, set metal to singing. -Curt swore harshly. Space was filled with floating debris captured by -the gravitic tides. Small chunks of meteoric rock flashed by, followed -by clouds of dust as fine as gravel. The bloated, ruptured body of a -space-ship rushed by in the opposite direction, hurled nowhere in its -constant swinging about the area of dead space. Curt winced, when he -caught the starshine on the bulgered bodies that trailed in its wake -like a meteor cloud. He wondered, irrelevantly, who the men were. - -And then from the darkness of space came a great sweeping clot of -debris, the gutter rubbish of the space lanes. Ships that had been -caught in the tides, meteors, rocks, all the flotsam that had been -gathered through the ages. - -But Curt had no time for that. He felt his ship winning free, sent it -whipping to the left again, wondering if his rockets would burn out -under the stupendous strain. And relief filled him, when he realized -that he was pulling the other ship from its death-bed of gravity. - -And even as he laughed, he felt all power cease in his ship. - -He swore brittlely, fought with the controls. All of them were dead. -Panicky, he stared from the vision port, and dull wonder filled his -mind. - -Twin tractor-beams were lancing from the clot of space debris below the -ship, each centered on a different ship. The beams were almost white in -their intensity, so great was their power. - -"What the hell!" Curt Varga said audibly, relaxed momentarily. - -And then the cruiser was hurtling toward the clot, sucked there by -the tractor beam, moved with an incredible titanic force such as was -only possible from a mighty generator. Curt swerved his gaze to the -freighter, saw that it, too, was trapped. - -He thought then of the words that his brother had spoken to him on -Mars before, of the information that had come through about the base -of the drug-smuggling ring being in the Sargasso. He cursed the utter -blind stupidity that had made him discount the words even as they were -spoken. And then puzzlement grew within him, for it was an established -fact that, once caught within the Sargasso, nothing could escape. -How, then, could this be the _smothalene_ smuggling headquarters; the -smuggling ships could not escape the drag of the knitted gravities? - -But he had no more time for thinking. The cruiser jarred squarely into -the center of the clot of debris, was sucked through it. Metal jarred -and strained, and a light flickered into life on the board, indicating -that a plate had been sprung in number Three hold. - -Curt darted for the wall closet, unzipped it, tugged at his bulger. -He slid into it, closed it, left the quartzite face-plate open until -the control room was actually ruptured and the need for air from the -shoulder tank was necessary. - -Outside, rubbish flashed by the ports in a rush of whirling objects. -Except for the crash and clatter of the cruiser forcing its way through -the churning maelstrom, there was no sound. - -The cruiser landed with a jar that threw Curt to one side, dazing him -for a moment. He braced his feet, flipped a dis-gun from the wall -rack, went slowly toward the port. He heard it unscrewing before he -got there, and he cogged his head plate shut, switched on the flow of -oxygen. The port came open, and a radio signal buzzed within Curt's -helmet. He felt the rushing of air from the ship into the Void. - -"Come on out, with your hands up," a heavy voice snapped -authoritatively. - - * * * * * - -The Falcon paused irresolutely, then shrugged, shoved the dis-gun into -a pocket of his bulger. Bending a bit, he stepped from the port, was -menaced instantly by five dis-guns held in the hands of bulger-suited -Earthmen. The leader moved forward, disarmed Curt, stared at him -through the face plate of his spacesuit. - -"I've been hoping we'd meet," he said in surprise. "But I never figured -you'd come popping in like this!" He gestured about. "I'm Duke Ringo; -these are some of my men." - -Curt gazed about, recognized that he stood in the freight hold of a -great liner. The metal was twisted and torn with gravitational strain, -with only one wall intact. Even now, he was being herded toward that -wall. - -"I'm Davis, Kemp Davis," Curt said slowly. "I've been scavenging the -lanes. I was trying to save that freighter, figuring salvage rates, -when your ray brought me in." He affected a dead-face expression. "What -are you men doing here, were you sucked in by the tides?" - -Duke Ringo laughed scornfully. "To hell with that stuff, Falcon!" he -said. "We know who you are; some of us have seen you. And we've got -a--" He broke off, swung about to face another group clambering into -the hold. "Who is it?" he snapped. - -Curt's heart missed a beat; he took an instinctive step forward, -stopped before the menace of a dis-gun. He heard Ringo's voice echoing -tinnily in his earphones, heard another man's answer. - -"It's a _girl_, Duke." - -"Who, damn it!" - -Jean's voice came dear and cool. "I'm Jean Vandor, daughter of Jason -Vandor. If you have charge of these men, make them take their hands -from me." - -The second group slowly approached the first. The girl evidently -recognized Curt, for her voice held a triumphant ring. "I see you've -captured him," she said. "That's good. The reward for him will make all -of you men rich. He's Curt Varga, Chief of the Food and Smothalene -Pirates." - -"Who'da thought it!" Duke Ringo said in mock amazement, turned away. -"Come on, we'll get back to where it's comfortable." - -"Nice going, Jean," Curt Varga said bitterly. "Because of your sheer -stupidity, we're in a jam that made your former one look infantile. -These boys are part of the _smothalene_ smugglers; we haven't got a -chance." - -"Shut up, Varga," Duke Ringo said curtly. - -Curt subsided, went slowly forward. They entered a small compression -compartment, and Duke cogged a door shut. Air hissed from vents in the -walls, and the pressure gradually mounted. Thirty seconds later, Duke -Ringo unzippered his suit, motioned for the others to do the same. He -lifted a box from one corner of the chamber, handed small nitration -masks about. - -"Stick these on," he said to Curt and Jean. "Otherwise you may find -yourself aging pretty rapidly." - -Curt fitted his mask to his nose, clamped his lips, his eyes flicking -over the group of men. They were tough, as tough as any men he had ever -seen in space. And he felt queasiness in his stomach when he saw the -sheer cold brutality in their eyes when they looked at him. His fists -tightened when he saw the manner in which they regarded Jean. - -"All right, Ringo," Curt said. "Now what's the play?" - -Duke Ringo turned slowly. He was fully as tall as Curt, but he was -bulkier, heavier. He surveyed Curt deliberately out of expressionless -eyes, then turned his gaze to Jean. - -"The young lady," he said, "will be confined to a cabin for a few days. -You, I think, will earn your keep by working at a drier." - -A smuggler laughed openly, subsided when Curt spun toward him. - -"I'm making no threats," Curt said finally. "But don't go looking for -trouble. My men know where I am; they'll be looking for me. You can't -afford to buck them." - -Duke Ringo chuckled. "Don't be childish, Varga," he said. "Your men -wouldn't have a chance in the tides; I only found out how to enter and -get back, by accident. Play nice, and you won't get hurt. Try getting -tough, and--" He spread expressive hands. - -Curt took a stubborn step forward. "Listen, Ringo," he said earnestly, -"my work is important; I've got to get back. I'll make a deal with you." - -Jean pushed forward. "I'll _double_ any bribe he offers you," she told -Ringo, "if you keep him a prisoner for the IP. And I'll _triple_ the -reward, if you get me back to Earth within the next six days." - -"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" Duke Ringo clucked his tongue. "Maybe I'll collect a -reward bigger than you think--for turning both of you in later." - -"How much ransom?" the Falcon said resignedly. - -Duke Ringo pondered. "Not much," he admitted. "I just want to take over -your base, your ships, your food-supply." He grinned, opened and shut -his hands. "It looks as if I will." - -Curt leaned forward, drove his right hand with every bit of strength -in his rangy body. He forgot the issues at stake, in the blind rage of -the moment; he thought only of his dreams he saw shattered beneath the -grinding heel of the other's desire. He slashed with a desperate fury, -and skin split on the knuckles of his hand. - - * * * * * - -Duke Ringo went sprawling backward upon the wall, a thin trickle of -blood oozing from a swelling mouth. He swore nastily, came blasting -forward, his right hand catching Curt high on the chest, his left -darting in, smashing at Curt's jaw. Curt rolled with the punch, sagging -backward, then side-stepping. He lashed with both hands, felt a blind -gladness in him when his fists drew gasps of pain from the other. He -waded forward, both hands pistoning, taking blows to his own face that -sent curtains of red pain spinning through his brain. - -And then a savage driving punch caught Duke Ringo squarely in the -throat. He sagged, pawed with both hands at his battered larynx. He -gasped, unable to speak, his face purpling from the effort to breathe. - -Curt darted in, flicked out a hand, caught the exposed dis-gun at -Ringo's belt. He flipped the gun free, whirled, menaced the remaining -men with its flaring muzzle. - -"Back," he snarled, "or I'll cut you down." He nodded at Jean. "Get -behind me," he finished savagely. "This is our only chance to get -free." He was the Falcon then, deadly, dangerous, a light burning in -his eyes. - -Jean moved hesitantly toward Curt, edged around him. The smugglers -said nothing, apparently waiting for the slightest opening in Curt's -offensive. Duke Ringo straightened, his face puffed, air whistling into -his bruised throat. - -"You'll never make it," Ringo said harshly. "Put down that gun." - -Curt laughed mockingly. "I'll take my chances," he said. - -And went cold with horror. For Jean lunged forward, swept the gun -aside, and clung panting to his arm. The next instant, Duke leaned -forward, and clubbed with his knotted fist. The blow caught Curt in the -temple, hurled him to one side. He tried to turn, to spin, even as he -was falling, but the girl's clutch on his arm tripped him. He went to -his knees, his free hand shoving at the floor. - -And then two of the smugglers had dropped on him, were smashing with -heavy fists. Curt drew his legs beneath him, tore his arm free, came -hurtling upward. In the midst of the movement, he saw the boot lashing -at his face. He sobbed deep in his throat, knowing the blow could not -miss. He tensed the muscles of his neck, rolled his head. And the boot -smashed just below his right ear. - -He felt the coolness of the metal flooring on his face, but there was -only a grey blankness before his eyes. He tried to force his body to -his feet, but there was no strength in his arms. - -"Take him below," he heard Duke Ringo say. "Stick him at a drier. And -because he likes to play tough, we'll see just how tough he is. _Make -him work without a mask._" - -The Falcon called out, but his voice was only a whisper in his mind. He -felt oblivion reaching for him with talon-like fingers, felt panicky -terror constricting his heart. He knew what the last order meant; and -horror filled his brain. Then hands gripped his body, swung it high. He -tried to fight, and the entire world collapsed in a blaze of white-hot -light. - - - IV - -The Falcon was drunk, completely, hilariously drunk. He sang a song -about a girl with golden hair who rode a moonbeam in a race with the -Venusian express, and he stopped now and then to breathe deeply, -completely oblivious of the glances given him by the guards patrolling -the catwalks above the manufacturing room. - -He pressed the slender shoots of _lanka_ weed into the cutters, -drunkenly raked the chopped remnants into a basket. Lurching, he turned -to the great kiln drier, dumped the basket load into the hopper, and -closed the door. He adjusted the rheostat until a needle backed another -on a dial, then went back to the cutter. He leaned against the machine, -idly scratched the back of his neck with one hand, gazed blearily about -the room. - -Then he slipped several vitamin and energy capsules from his pocket -and swallowed them. He felt their quick power sealing through his -body, felt the cloudy numbness lifting from his brain. He fought with -a desperate effort to think clearly and concisely, for he knew that -another few weeks in the _smothalene_ factory would kill him. - -He waited patiently, felt strength coming back to his mind. Men watched -him with a blind calm curiosity, their faces, behind their filtration -masks, indicating their wonder that he should still be as well as he -was after several days in the polluted air of the factory. - -Duke Ringo had kept his threat; the Falcon had been compelled to work -at the _lanka_ weed cutter without a mask. And those seven work periods -had taken their toll of his rugged lithe strength. He was lucky that -the machine filters permitted only the barest trace of the powder -to get into the air, for a breath of the pure drug would kill him -instantly, knotting his body with muscle-ripping cramps. - -The drug, _smothalene_, was the deadliest aphrodisiac discovered in -more than a century. Its action was swift and diabolic, raising the -rate of metabolism to an incredible height, literally burning the flesh -from the body of the users. Such was its action, the user consumed -fifty times his normal usage of oxygen, and consequently went on an -oxygen-drunk that was more satisfying, more habit-forming, than any -drug that could be found. Its final effect came in a spasmodic, hideous -moment, when the cumulative effects of the drug literally exploded in a -surge of unleashed power. Every bit of energy and life was sucked from -the body, and the corpse became nothing but a desiccated mummy. - -The Falcon thought of that and many things, remembering the brushes -his men had had with the smugglers, recalling the bodies of the -_smothalene_ users he had seen. And he remembered, too, the accusations -hurled at him and his brood, wild accusations that placed him and his -men in the roles of mass murderers--as the _smothalene_ smugglers. - -He gripped the machine edge tightly with whitening hands. He could feel -the life being burned from his body from the tiny bit of the drug his -body had assimilated, sensed the coolness coming to his heated muscles -as the energy tablets fed the speeded metabolism. He knew instinctively -that he had not grown so accustomed to the drug that he could not break -its lecherous hold. All that he needed was a greatly supplemented diet -for the next few days, and then, except for the natural deterioration -of his body during the _smothalene_ binge, he would be as perfectly -conditioned as before. - -A guard leaned over the edge of the catwalk, gestured with a paralysis -gun. "Snap into it, Varga," he roared. "Your period isn't up yet." - -The Falcon nodded, lifted new weeds into the hopper. Benton, the -Earthman working at his side, flicked his gaze warily at the guards, -and his voice was a quiet whisper. - -"Don't be a sap, Falcon," he said. "Walk into a paralysis ray, get it -over with in a hurry." - -Curt Varga shook his head. "Sorry," he said softly, "I've got other -plans." - -Benton smiled derisively. "Yeah? Well, a couple of others thought they -had, too. They got a converter burial in the energy room." - -The Falcon swayed a bit, felt drunkenness creeping into his mind again. -He found and swallowed the last of his energy tablets. - -"Look," he said, "I need the help of everybody in here. I've got a plan -that might work--but this _smothalene_ is burning me so I can't really -think. Collect all the energy tablets the men can spare for me; I'll -use them to stay sober until I bust the place wide open." - -Benton shook his head. - -The Falcon raked weeds into the cutter, glanced about. - -"The guards think I'm drunk all of the time," he whispered. "They don't -worry about me any more; I can do damned near as I please. Get me those -energy tablets, so my mind won't blank out at the last moment, and I'll -guarantee freedom for all of us." - -The Earthman considered gravely for a moment, then nodded doubtfully. -"I'll do what I can, Falcon, only because of your reputation. If your -idea doesn't work, there's little lost, anyway." - -Slowly, he turned, caught up a great oil-can, drifted among the -machines. He talked quietly with worker after worker, finally returned -and handed Varga a double handful of tablets. - -"That's all I could get," he said. "Now what happens?" - -"Watch for your cue." The Falcon dropped the tablets into his pocket, -retaining about a dozen. He swallowed them, felt their cool rush of -energy almost immediately. He unscrewed a vial from beneath a jet. - -Then he proceeded to get very drunk. - - * * * * * - -His face went slack, his muscles rubbery. He sang in a cracked tenor, -weaved carelessly through the machines, going toward the steps that led -to the catwalk. He staggered drunkenly, almost belligerently righted -himself again and again. - -"Get back to work, Falcon," a guard called, grinned at the slackness of -the pirate's once-erect body. - -"I don' wanna work!" Curt Varga said nastily. "I'm gonna be sick." - -"All right!" The guard jerked his head toward the rest-room. "Be -sick, and then get back to your job." He grinned, as the Falcon came -laboriously up the stairs. - -The Falcon staggered drunkenly toward the rest-room, shoved through -the door, dropped his pretense the moment he was alone. He went -swiftly toward the air-intake grill, worked at its fastenings with a -screwdriver secreted in his boot-top. And as he worked, he thought. - -"_Jean_," he thought, and his face went white from concentration. -"_Jean, this is the Falcon. Listen to me. In a few minutes, I'm going -to release smothalene into the air-system. Put on your mask, and be -ready to run for it._" - -He sent the message again and again, wishing that he had had the -telepathic training to receive as well as send. He had no way of -knowing if the girl could get his message; he had no way of knowing -whether or not she would tell Duke Ringo of his plans. - -The grill plate came loose in his hands, and he lifted the vial of -_smothalene_ powder into the hole revealed. For a second, his hand -remained there, and then he felt the sickness of futility come over -him. He had no mask. - -He stepped back from the wall, pocketed the vial, went toward the -door. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled the door ajar, beckoned -drunkenly to the nearest guard. - -"Cummere," he said melodramatically. "I got somethin' to show you." - -"What's the matter?" the guard asked suspiciously, and his gun was -bright in his hand. - -"Thieves, that's what it is," the Falcon asserted solemnly. "Cummon, -I'll show you." - -He opened the door wide, turned his back, walked toward the gaping -grill-hole. The guard entered suspiciously. - -"All right," the guard said. "What's up?" - -"See!" the Falcon said, pointed. - -The guard gaped. "Who in hell did that?" he swore angrily. "Now I've -gotta--" He swung about, momentarily forgetting the man with him. - -The Falcon swung with a delicate precision, striking with the -death-blow of a trained IP agent. The guard was dead before his sagging -body was caught in the pirate's strong arms. He never moved. - -The Falcon laid the body gently on the floor, removed the filtration -mask, fitted it to his face. He pulled the coat from the slack arms and -shoulders, carried it with him to the wall. Carefully, he emptied his -vial of the _smothalene_ crystals into the air-tube, covered the hole -with the muffling coat. He stood that way for several minutes, until -he was certain that the dust had been carefully sucked along the pipe. -Then he darted back to the guard, took his gun, and stepped to the door. - -He shot the approaching guard squarely through the throat, the gun -singing its piercing note of death, the instant cry of the guard -disappearing with his throat. Then the Falcon hurdled the body, raced -along the catwalk. - -"Benton," he yelled, "_this is it_." - -A guard shouted in brief anger, his ray searing a burning streak of -agony along Curt's side. Then the Falcon whirled, dropped to one knee -on the metal flooring, and his gun sang a song of death that didn't -cease. - -Rays lanced from the patrolling guards, and their cries were startled -angry sounds. One went down from the Falcon's ray; another lined his -gun with a deliberate slowness. - -A thrown spanner-wrench crushed in the side of his head, and Benton -raced up the catwalk's steps. He waved two more wrenches at the Falcon. - -"Let's go, Varga," he shouted. - -The Falcon rayed the last two guards to death with a single sweeping -shot that cut them down as though before a scythe. Then he was running -toward the exit. - -"Stay here and organize the men," he yelled back. "Follow as quickly as -possible, and mop up the smugglers still alive." - - * * * * * - -Then he had plunged through the door and was racing down the corridor. -He gagged in sheer horror when he saw the bodies of the smugglers in -the hall and adjacent rooms. They were sere and brown, withered mummies -dressed in clothes sizes too large. Some still twitched feebly in -their last throes. _Smothalene_ had dropped them with their first deep -breaths of the virulent drug. - -He raced on, his feet pounding deafening echoes from the floor, his -gun gripped tightly in his hand. He prayed silently as he ran. And then -he was at the control cabin, skidding to a stop, his gun swivelling to -menace the room. It was empty, except for the sere mummy of a man at -the astrogation table. - -"Damn!" the Falcon swore, swerved about as a footstep sounded at the -door. Then he was holding Jean in his arms, soothing the shaking of her -slender shoulders. - -"Ringo escaped!" the girl cried. "He was making me broadcast a ransom -demand to my father, when I got your message. I grabbed a mask, and -ran. He must have suspected something, for he didn't chase me. I hid, -and watched him running toward the escape hatch. He was wearing a -bulger." She glanced at the mummified man at the table, shuddered, -tears flooding her eyes. - -The Falcon shoved her aside, sprang to the control board. He flicked a -switch, grinned tautly when a needle leaped to instant life. He sat in -the seat, laid his gun aside. Flicking on the vizi-beam, he sent its -scanner ray swirling about outside the dead ship. Almost instantly he -found the tiny cruiser boring toward the outside of the clot of space -debris. - -His hands darted to two levers on the board, drew them back. Tractor -rays leaped into sudden life, spun in pursuit of the fleeing cruiser. -Secondary rays fended off the rubbish that tended to be sucked into the -tractor beams. - -Then the tractors caught the cruiser, caught and held it immovable. It -swung about, almost stopping its direct flight. It bucked and plunged -like a fish on a line, rockets flaring with incredible power to break -the hold. But Curt's hands never gave it a chance. The rays grew whiter -by the second, became almost invisible in their power. And the cruiser -wheeled over, began sinking slowly toward the headquarter's ship. - -The vizi-screen grew silvery, then green, and a face appeared on its -surface. - -"Clever, weren't you, Falcon," Duke Ringo said viciously. "I should -have killed you when I had the chance." His eyes were mad pits of -reddish hell. "I knew something was wrong when the girl made a dash -from me with a mask, but I didn't have time to warn the men, for I -wasn't certain what was happening. Then the _smothalene_ dropped my -mate, and I barely got into a bulger before I had to take a breath. I -had to run for it; I couldn't have fought your entire crowd." - -The Falcon's face was stony and bleak, his eyes impersonal. - -"I'm bringing you back, Ringo, and turning you in." - -"To hell with you, Falcon," Duke Ringo snarled. "When I go out, you go, -too." He laughed. "_All right, I'm coming in!_" - -The vizi-screen went momentarily black, then the scanner ray cut back -in. Duke Ringo's ship had ceased its futile efforts to escape; now -it was turning, the needle prow centered directly on the smuggling -headquarters. In that one flashing second, the Falcon felt a surge of -admiration for the brutal bravery of the man. - -But there was no time for thinking; there were only a few seconds in -which to act with an instinctive blinding speed. Duke Ringo's ship was -smashing downward now, driving at full-speed throttle, speeding with -the combined power of the tractor rays and the surging drone of its -rockets. It flashed with a speed that increased by the second, became a -diving bullet that could not miss its mark. - -Curt Varga cursed deep in his throat, switched off the tractor beams, -watched the ship smashing in. He cringed from the explosion he knew was -coming, felt terror deep in his mind. Then sanity reasserted itself, -and his hands moved with a flowing speed. - -He flicked on the tractor rays again, sent them spiralling to one side. -They touched a fifty-foot meteor, caught it, spun it into the path of -the hurtling death-ship. - -Duke Ringo tried to swerve the cruiser, failed, for the ship and meteor -struck in a titanic slanting blow. White heat flared for a soundless -moment, force waves pushing outward in the burst of energy. Then the -ship and meteor were one, and in their place was only a fused lump of -metallic refuse that spun endlessly in the Sargasso of Space. - -The Falcon cut all switches, turned slowly about on his seat. He stared -at Benton and the other prisoners who had crowded into the room. He -felt the nearness of the girl at his side, cursed himself for becoming -a sentimental fool. - -"The show's over," he said quietly. "Ringo's dead." - - - V - -Fourteen hours later, the Falcon stood before the control board of -his sleek pirate cruiser. Jean was at his side, and they faced the -vizi-screen. Except for a certain amount of lethargy because of the -tiny amount of drug he had inhaled in the _smothalene_ factory, the -Falcon felt all right again. He was dressed in fresh clothes, a new gun -was buckled at his waist. And through the blackness of his hair were -threaded bits of silver the past few days had brought. Jean was dressed -becomingly in some of the Falcon's spare clothes, appearing much like a -rather pretty boy playing in his father's garments. - -"Benton and the others," the Falcon said, "have their orders and -directions for finding the Base. Those of you who did not care to -join me may go where your fancies dictate. Now, don't forget. To free -yourself of the Sargasso, you merely have to hold your ships to the -debris clot with a tractor, and race at full throttle in as large a -circle as you can. When maximum speed is reached, cut the tractor, and -centrifugal force will throw you free. Has everybody got that?" - -Acknowledgments came piling in from the thirty ships gathered about the -Falcon's ship. - -"Then let's go," the Falcon said, and sat at the controls. He flipped -switches, built up speed, finally cut loose, and the Sargasso fled back -behind them. - -The Falcon set the robot-control, sighed relievedly. He grinned at the -girl beside him, liked what he saw in her eyes. - -"I'm doing this against my better judgment, Jean," he said -half-mockingly, half-seriously, "but since you've given me your solemn -oath, I'm willing to take a chance. Anyway, you owe me your life; for -that, you should be willing to keep the Base's location a secret." - -Jean Vandor nodded. "I shall keep my word," she said slowly, then she -sank into a seat, caught at the Falcon's arm. "Please, Curt," she -finished swiftly, "please forget this mad plan of yours! I don't say -you're right or wrong, I just say that the odds are too great for you -to win. Come with me to Earth; my father will see that you are given a -good job where you can be wealthy and respected. I promise you that." - -The Falcon fashioned two _pulnik_ cigarettes, handed one to the girl. -He shook his head slightly, wryly. - -"Sorry," he said, "but I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I owe too much -to the people who trust me. And I have a certain sense of integrity -that wouldn't let me sleep nights, should I quit now." He smiled with -the quickening exuberance of a man ten years younger. "Put in a good -word for me, though; I'll maybe need it, if things go wrong." - -Jean Vandor smoked her cigarette silently. "They will go wrong," she -said finally. - -"It's a chance worth taking." The Falcon shrugged. "But tell me of -Ringo's ransom demands; this is the first real chance we've had to -talk, what with wrecking the smuggling headquarters, plundering the -dead ships of the Sargasso, and then making our escape." He grinned. "I -thank you for that, anyway; if you hadn't heard Ringo telling his men -how to escape the gravitic tides, we'd be there, yet." - -Jean nodded. "I heard him give the order when a new recruit was about -to take a ship out. As for the ransom demand; well, Ringo demanded -immunity from the Administrators, and a license to sell _smothalene_ -throughout the system, in return for my release. But as he told me, he -planned to keep me prisoner until all the drug now manufactured was -sold. With myself as a hostage, my father would be helpless to fight -back." - -The Falcon turned to the control board, made minute adjustments, tried -to force a casual tone. He could feel the flush stealing upward from -his open collar. - -"What do you plan to do, once back on Earth?" - -"Nothing, I suppose, just the things I did before--well, this entire -affair happened." - -"Are you--" The Falcon came to his feet, walked to the door. "Nothing," -he finished. "I think I'll get a bit of sleep before we land." - -Not waiting for a reply, he walked down the corridor. He hated -himself at the moment, hated himself and the life he lead. In his -mind grew the first nucleus of a doubt that he might be wrong. In all -probability, what he should do, what was the logical thing to do, was -to accept Jean's offer, forget his past, and try to settle back into -the ordered routine of life the Administrator's plans had mapped for -twenty billion people. - -Entering his cabin, he threw himself on the bunk, smoked interminable -cigarettes. And as the hours passed, coherence came to his thoughts, -and the bitterness faded. After a time, he slept. - - * * * * * - -He woke only when the light tap came on his cabin door. - -"We're landing, Falcon," Jean said breathlessly. "I talked with father, -and he has promised a truce for the period you are on Earth." - -"I'll be right out," Curt Varga said, felt the vague prickle of a -premonitory thrill along his spine. Then he shrugged, climbed from the -bunk, did quick ablutions. Five minutes later, his hand was on the -controls when the cruiser glided to a landing at the spaceport. - -Jason Vandor waited on the field, his purple robe bright in the midst -of his personal bodyguard. He caught Jean in his arms, and the Falcon -felt a certain sense of gladness when he saw the open affection of the -man toward his daughter. Despite his faults, the man was truly a father. - -"So you're the Falcon," Vandor said at last, staring at the pirate from -eyes as blue and chill as ice. - -Curt Varga grinned. "I'm the Falcon," he said calmly. "But I never -thought to meet you under these circumstances." - -"Nor I. But I do offer you thanks, anyway." - -"You owe me nothing; I am here under truce. When I leave, our battle -starts again." - -Vandor smiled. "But you see, Falcon, that is where you are wrong. I -thank you for bringing my daughter back, yes; but I also thank you for -saving my men the trouble of running you down." His hand made a sharp -imperative gesture. "_Blank him out_," he ordered. - -There was no time to move, no time to think; there was only the split -second of consciousness when he saw the smile of triumph on Vandor's -face, and its mocking echo on the girl's. Then the dis-gun blast caught -the Falcon squarely in its glow, sucked away all thought and dropped -him into a blackened abyss that had no bottom. - - * * * * * - -The Falcon moved groggily, felt nausea cramping at his belly. He -groaned, shook his head, forced himself erect. Chains clanked loudly, -and he felt the coolness of their metal on his arms and legs. - -"Hell!" he said feelingly, felt despair eating at his heart. - -Jason Vandor moved slightly, sighed, then stood from where he sat -across the cell. His grey hair was almost white in the gloom, and his -face was hard and merciless. - -"I want to talk to you, Falcon," he said harshly. - -Curt Varga blinked away his dizziness, searched the cell with his eyes. -Except for two bunks, it was empty. The chains he wore were welded to -the bunk upon which he sat. - -"Go ahead," he said finally. "You seem to have the whip hand." - -"It's about Jean." There was a tiny thread of fear running through the -dictator's voice. - -"All right, what about her?" - -"I want you to do something. She and I just had a terrible fight, the -first I can remember having with her since she was a child. She seems -to think that I was wrong in capturing you while I had a chance. Now, I -know such a request is strange, I know you hate me, but I want you to -talk with her, and convince her that I was in the right. You know our -fight is to the death; you know that neither of us asks quarter; you -know you would have done the same thing had you been in my place. I'm -not asking this for myself; I'm asking for her peace of mind. Her life -will be wrecked, if she hates me as long as she lives." - -The Falcon laughed, and the sound was ugly and ironic in the -semi-darkness. He had met strange situations in his years as a -freebooter of space, but none of them had been as fantastic as this. - -"You honestly mean that you want me, the man you intend to execute, to -intercede for you with your daughter?" - -Panic tightened Jason Vandor's voice. "I'll make it worth your while, -Falcon," he said. "I'll see that you are not executed; I'll see that -you get life. I'll even see that you have all requests granted." - -"To hell with you," the Falcon said dispassionately. - -"Falcon, you've got to listen to me, you've go to. Jean is a girl, -she's been brought up differently than either of us. You and I know -what fighting and death are; you and I have no illusions to temper -our judgments--we are cold intellects. But Jean is young, she has -ideals, and they must not be destroyed. You have appealed to her -instincts for romance; she has colored your actions of the past few -days until you seem to be what you pretend to be. Now I want you to -make her understand that your real desire to crush me and the other -Administrators has nothing romantic about it; you must make her -realize your real purpose--that you plan to become dictator in the -Administrator's place. Will you do that, Falcon?" - -Curt Varga sagged back against the wall, stared blindly at the man -before him. Thoughts were chaotic in his mind. - -"You _believe_ that, don't you, Vandor?" he said slowly. - -"Of course, what else can I believe? Self-government, freedom, bah! The -cattle of the worlds wouldn't know what to do with either." - -The Falcon shifted. "Where is Jean?" he asked. - -"On her way to Mars, where I sent her." Jason Vandor's tone grew harsh -and strained. "I'm making a request, Falcon," he finished, "and I can -be generous in return. But make me force you to talk to her, and I can -do to you just what you would do to me." He laughed without mirth. -"A pitcheblend mine, wearing no protection, might be much worse than -agreeing." - -Curt Varga nodded. "I don't understand you, fully. You're a merciless -butcher--yet you think enough of your daughter to bargain with your -enemy. But I'll do what you say--for my freedom." - -Jason Vandor shook his head. "Not that," he said brittlely. "I have no -desire to fight you a running battle until the final showdown. You're -dead, as far as your past is concerned. But you have your choice of -death; either a slow one in prison, or a hideous one in a mine. Either -way, you will fight me no more." - -"What would I say?" - -"Practically nothing. She swore she would believe what I said, only if -you told her that my statements were the truth. Tell her that over a -vizi-beam, and I promise you a decent prison life." - -"I've sampled your promises." - -"I swear I shall not go back on my word. Jean is the only thing in -life I love; I'll do anything for her." Vandor's words were bitter and -brooding. - -"All right." The Falcon nodded. "I'll speak your pretty little speech. -Not for you; I wouldn't give you water in hell. But for Jean; who at -least hates and fights cleanly and openly." He spat. "Now get me out of -here before I change my mind." - -Jason Vandor stepped forward, tossed a key into Varga's lap. His -concealed hand came from beneath his robe, and a gun glinted dully in -his fist. - -"Cross me, Falcon," he said quietly, "and for every minute of mental -torture you give me, I'll give you a year of the same." - -The Falcon unlocked his chains, stood erect. "I'll speak your piece," -he answered. "But don't make threats." - - * * * * * - -He walked before the menace of the gun through the open door, followed -the line of radi-lights down the stone corridor. He felt nothing but a -dull apathy within his mind, and he cared nothing for the future. He -knew there was no escape, and the knowledge left him unemotional. - -But then the thought came that Jean had fought on his side, and he felt -warmness spreading through his heart. There was a gulf between them, a -space that would never be spanned. Yet he felt closer to the girl now -than he had felt toward any person other than his brother in years. - -"This way, Falcon," Jason Vandor said. - -They walked a corridor, turned right, entered the vizi-beam room where -operators sat before the machines that connected with all planets. - -Jason Vandor stopped beside a machine. "Get the _Ardeth_ on the beam," -he ordered. - -"Yes, your Lordship!" The beam-man's fingers made clicking contacts -with the machine's controls. The vizi-screen became silvery, slowly -turned green. - -Life grew on the screen. Color swirled, then merged, and Jean Vandor -frowned from the screen. - -"Yes?" she asked. - -Jason Vandor forced the Falcon to the screen with his gun. The Falcon -was conscious then of the utter quiet in the room, as though all were -afraid to breathe. He could feel the pounding of his heart as he -stepped forward. - -"Can you hear me, Jean?" he asked quietly. - -"I can hear you, Curt." - -The Falcon forced all feeling from his voice. "Jean, answer me -truthfully; did you plot that I should be captured?" - -Tears welled in the girl's eyes, and her head shook slightly. - -"No, Curt." - -Curt Varga sighed then, and the ache in his heart was a tangible thing -that hurt with an agony he had not thought possible for a man to feel. - -"Remember the things I told you, Jean? Remember the hopes and dreams -and plans I had?" - -"I remember." - -"Then, Jean, this is the truth. Remember this all of your life; fight -for it, never let it die. _Men are born to be free; no man can place -himself in the role of God, there to dictate what--_" - -The blow of the gun barrel smashed him to his knees. He knelt there for -seconds, laughing into Jason Vandor's face. - -"I'm a _small_ man, Vandor," the Falcon said. "I can hate and I can -love. But I am true to myself, if nothing else. Get somebody else to do -your lying." - -Jason Vandor's face was a chiseled mask of evil rage. He saw then the -crumbling of the life he had built, saw then the truth that lay in the -Falcon. He knew then that all of the treasures and powers of a hundred -worlds could not replace that which he had lost in those fleeting -seconds. - -He lifted his gun to shoot the defenseless Falcon to death--and died -that way, a dis-ray scything him down in a huddled heap. - -"By damn, a fight at last!" a great voice roared from the doorway, and -Schutler sprang into the room. - -His laughter was mad with the richness of the moment, and the twin -guns were almost buried in the greatness of his fists. Crandal was at -his side, his bald head gleaming, his gun lancing flame like a jet of -glowing water. And behind both, shoving them forward, came Jericho, his -ebony face agleam, a great sword in one hand, a gun in another. - -"_Falcon!_" Jericho cried, and his gun made an arc through the air, was -caught deftly in the Falcon's reaching hand. - - * * * * * - -Then hell broke loose in that great room, a hell of a dozen darting -crossing rays of death, a holocaust of power that surged and twisted -and searched for the lives of the men within. - -A guard went down, his gun still holstered, his face blown away by the -left gun of the laughing giant at the door. Crandal darted sideways -like a crab, gun-flame licking out, precisely, almost daintily, never -wasting energy on the wall or air. And Jericho moved like a black -whirlwind, countering the dis-flame of a single guard by touching it -with his sword-blade, and grounding the energy in his power-glove. - -And the Falcon was on his feet, his laughter ringing as in the days of -old, when a fight had been the thing to set a man's blood to pounding, -when to live was a zestful thing of promise, when the future was bright -and the past a gay memory. - -He raced to the side of his men, cutting a guard from his side, raying -a second even as he was lining his gun on Jericho. The Negro grinned, -and his swinging sword fled through the neck of a guard, followed about -and dropped a hand from the wrist of a screaming second. - -Schutler went down, his beard flaming where a bolt had grazed his -chin. He roared like an angry bull, pawed at the flame and smoke of -his burning beard, swept his other hand as a man sprays water. Guards -dropped like flies beneath a poison spray. - -A shot caught Crandal in one leg, dropped him to his knee. His face -went even whiter, and sweat was on his head. - -The Falcon sprang to Crandal's side, caught him up with his left arm, -raised a barrage of shots with the gun in his right. His teeth were -white against the tan of his face, and the cold of his grey eyes was -strange against the laughter that filled his face. - -And the four were together, and no man could stand against them. They -were courage and brains and strength and agility, all together, yet -separate in themselves. Apart, they could be downed; but together, all -hell itself brought mad rich laughter to their throats, and a flame to -their eyes. - -They stood together, and their guns made singing sounds that were like -those from a harp of death. And before those notes men sank and died, -one by one, and two by two, until only living stood beside the door, -and there was no other life. - -"Come, man," Schutler boomed, "before others hear the fight and stick -their noses in!" He fingered the stubble of his beard. - -"Are you all right, Jim?" the Falcon asked Crandal, and the man grinned -with a white-faced smile. - -Jericho caught up the wounded man, ignoring a ray burn that raced like -a livid purple snake across the blackness of his shoulders. He jerked -his head at the door. - -"We come in by a secret passage," he explained in a rush of words. "We -didn't find you in the cells, so we come hunting." - -The Falcon choked back the lump in his throat, and his eyes were misty -as he looked at the men to whom loyalty was neither a word nor a -gesture, only a thing that was in them when the need arose. - -"How--?" he began. - -"I did it, Curt," Jean's voice said. - -Jean was crying then, crying like a child whose first dreams are gone, -crying like one whose new dreams are but the faintest of sounds in -her consciousness. Through the vizi-screen she had seen all that had -happened, and the sickness in her eyes would be long leaving. - -"Jean," the Falcon said. "Please, Jean--" - -She was smiling then, smiling through the tears that would not stop. -And the Falcon, watching her features on the screen, knew the torture -that was hers. - -"I'll be waiting, Curt," she said. "But hurry--Oh, please hurry!" - -"Wait for me, Jean, _wait for me_." - -And the Falcon and his brood were running down the hall, running toward -the secret spot where a pirate ship waited to take them back to their -fight and their loves and their freedom--and to the far horizons of -their starway destiny. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Prey of the Space Falcon, by Wilbur S. 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