Mystery of the Third Mine

by Robert Lowndes

  “The brains light up,” approved Barbara. “But . . . still, so it’s a diversion. So what then? Where are we after that? Now if one ship could get through the blockade with the evidence, while the rest are making with diversions . .

  “If we could accelerate fast enough,” Clay began,

  . . . “but we can’t. We’d be overtaken. Even the guard cruisers have more tubes than these miners’ ships. All they have to do is to get ahead of us and sow junk in our path when we come along.”

  “Too bad we can’t disguise the ships like asteroids,” Barbara said.

  Clay looked up. “Asteroids. I think you have it, Barb. The rogue asteroid. I forgot all about it. Glen, isn’t it due today?”

  Abend muttered to himself for a moment, then said, “It passes here in an hour or so.”

  “Good. That’s the miracle we’ve been looking for! You and I will take the Claymore, set the course so that the rogue meets us, and we’ll land on it. It’ll take us through the whole cordon. It passes close enough to Mars so we can hop off and land on Phobos or Deimos. We can call for help from there. By the time they figure out what we did—if they figure it out at all—we’ll be in the clear. There’s no ship that can catch up with the rogue.”

  Chapter 17 Failure

  THEY saw swords of light sweeping down from the sky above Asteroid 20-47 when they came out of the cavern. There was a procession of guard ships floating above them, passing along slower than the drift of clouds in films they’d seen of Earth. The light blades crept onward, and grayness in between the shafts followed. Where the beams touched, rock formations stood out, leaping into prominence. There was the glitter of reflection from rock-quartz, ice, and other crystals, and the shadows became inky black.

  They came out in groups of three and four. Within each group was one figure who struggled, waved arms at the ships and cried out for help. Peter stood in the cavern entrance watching. Laura stood by the general-band microphone and called, "Uncle Jeff! Help! They’re taking me away!” over and over. They’d get her message, but no matter what they saw, the guard couldn’t tell which of the “captives” the appeal had come from.

  There would be no rain of pellets from the sky, washing over the defenders in lethal brilliance as had fallen on Guarnieri’s ship. Peter watched the figures as each group made its way toward a camouflaged ship. Abend and Clay were dragging an unwilling Tom Honoye along. He could hear banter and laughter from all of them as some acted out their roles on the private band. He heard Tom yell, “Unhand me, you beast,” then choke suddenly.

  “Look at the ham, will you,” came Clay’s voice. “She’s—I mean he’s—swooned.”

  Bette Demark had found that the explosion which knocked out her suit-communicator had left its mark. She was in a state of delayed shock, and it was no play-acting when two of the others carried her to her ship. But it helped the general confusion for those who would be watching.

  Peter signaled to Laura to stop calling for help and spoke to the others. “Attention, all of you. Listen. They’ve seen one person carried out and another apparently keeling over. Laura’s not talking any more from in here. But they may decide that one of the first two ‘captives’ is the real thing if the rest of you don’t follow suit.”

  “That’s making with the brainwork, Petey,” approved Barbara, from her position by another set. They’d held a council and the three had been elected to stay behind. Laura was to listen in for what she could pick up from the guard communicators. Barbara was trying to raise the Patrol. Peter would stand watch outside, in the shadows of the entrance.

  Maybe something will come off here, too, he thought. They picked me for the dull spot last time, and I had the most excitement. It didn't seem as if anything more would be happening on 20-47 now, though. I guess they’ve decided I’m responsible, he consoled himself.

  Laura had cut the microphone so she could talk to Peter and Barbara without being heard by the guard. “It s working,” she said. “They’re hopping mad. Uncle Jeff and Vincennes are both yelling orders back and forth. They know it’s a trick, but they have to chase the ships.”

  “They’ve seen, already?" asked Peter, his stomach tightening. “Golly, are you sure we—I mean the rest of us—can all take off?”

  “No danger there, partner," came Clay’s voice. “The only way they could do anything would be to make a quick landing, and there isn’t time. We’re inside the Claymore now, and . . He broke off as Peter said, “There goes Mish.”

  Karkannian’s was the first ship to shoot away from the asteroid. The others followed in rapid succession.

  “We’ll call you when we can, partner,” Clay said, as the Claymore blasted away. He chuckled. “Look at that danged Honoye. He’s still in his fake faint." “No, I think he’s asleep,” came Abend’s voice. Peter watched the guard ships. A couple turned out of fine with kicker-blasts, then shot after Karkannian. Others were jockeying into position to pursue Bette Demark’s ship. Slowly the procession was breaking up. The orbit they were following around 20-47 made it possible to aim each ship for a chase in any direction wanted. Their superior acceleration power meant that they'd have a chance to catch up. No one seemed to be going after the Claymore, though.

  Then Peter understood as he saw the fighter ship that followed behind this brood of smaller vessels in the chain. They’d selected the Claymore as the most likely culprit, and would be sending their best after it.

  Far out in the sky, Peter could see a small light. It seemed to move slowly, no faster than these ships had been drifting above 20-47. That was an illusion, he knew. The fact that he could see motion at all from this distance meant that the body was traveling at a furious pace.

  It was the rogue asteroid, and the Claymore was headed there.

  "Peter,” called Laura. “Uncle Jeff sent one of his heavy ships after the Claymore.”

  ‘T know," he answered. “I saw it.”

  He watched with a sinking feeling. True, it would take time for the fighter to catch up, but that wasn’t the point Clay, Abend, and Honoye wouldn’t be able to make a landing on the rogue now, without the guards realizing what was intended. Everything had depended upon Webster’s being diverted enough so that one individual ship, the Claymore, wouldn’t be followed too soon!

  It had been fun while it lasted, but the diversion was a failure!

  “Your ship couldn’t land on the rogue now, could it?” asked Laura.

  Peter looked out into the sky bitterly. "They could land, but there’s no point in it any longer.” There was a faint point of light out there in the direction the Claymore had taken.

  “They’re accelerating,” he added. “They’ll go right on past the rogue ”

  “So,” broke in Barbara, “we try something else. We keep on trying something else until we aren’t around to think of a new plan.”

  “Yeah, I guess that’s it, Barb. Only ... I don’t seem to have any fresh ideas handy.”

  “Do you think we ought to go back to Ceres?” Laura broke in.

  “Not yet. Let’s wait for Dad and Glen to call us. It looks as if this is as safe a spot as we could find right now, anyway. The guard’s off on a chase. . . . Well, we kept them out of the mine, Barb, at least.”

  “Come in and get some rest,” Laura said. “I can stand watch.”

  “We’d better have a schedule. I’ll stay here until the hour, then stand by the communicators while Barb has some sleep. You relieve me there, Laura, while Barb is sentry. We’ll make three-hour shifts of it.”

  “Me and my big mouth,” grumbled Barbara. “I make conversation and say Petey has a suggestion of brains. So now he’s a general already."

  Waiting and watching was a large part of the miners’ life. After a while, time didn’t seem to drag on the long shifts any more. There was an almost hypnotic quality about watching the sky, something that lulled you. Peter was in that state, though alert to the slightest sign of anything different or unusual. He heard Barbara Abend’s voice saying, "C
ome on in, general; time to change sentries,”

  He went inside. The other two had moved the communicator apparatus inside the larger of the two pressure tents that hadn’t been taken down. There didn’t seem to be any need for living in spacesuits, which could be donned quickly enough should the need come. Anything landing would be seen in ample time.

  He unzipped the outer wall of the tent, stepped inside and closed it. He waited for the pressure to adjust before taking off his suit. When he’d taken it off and thrown it over his arm, the inner wall zipped open, and Laura stood in the doorway.

  “Do you still think I should have run away?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I . . . well, I guess I was a little worried about you. Didn’t realize that you were used to roughing it.”

  She smiled. “Uncle Jeff took me with him on inspection trips, so I could get the feel of just what the miners were up against.” Her eyes had a faraway look. “I wish you could have known him then, Pete; he was so different. He said, and I’ll always remember it, ‘You’re going to be the head of a big enterprise, and you’ll have a lot of power. You’ll feel you know a lot more than other people because of your position, and you’ll be right in a way. But you mustn't let yourself get out of touch with the men and women you’re representing. I want you to promise me to get out into the field often. Once you lose the feeling of the miners life, then you will only be something abstract. You won’t be representing anything real.’ ”

  "I can see part of it now,” Peter replied.

  “He's so sure that his way is right,” she continued, “and that anyone who opposes him is completely wrong. At first he felt sorry for people who didn't agree with him. He'd laugh it off. Then—then he began to suspect the opposition of all kinds of things. It was ‘the opposition' now, not just individuals but an organized conspiracy. He felt he was justified in whatever he did to beat them.

  “Uncle Jeff used to admit that he made mistakes. Later it got to the point where he couldn’t be wrong. ‘The opposition’ was sabotaging him."

  “Far be it from me to interrupt this psychological survey," broke in Barbara, “but if you doctors can bear it, I think I have Mr. Kreuder at last."

  “Lon!" Peter cried, as he and Laura came over to the communicator. “Lon!” he called, “where are you?” “Old Caution has pulled his bluff. I found Steve Menotti’s notes—he was working for me—and I told Iantosca that I had conclusive evidence against Webster and Ama. Actually, I’m afraid Steve didn’t discover much more than we already know, but we’ll worry about that later.

  “Now, listen carefully. I can’t talk long, because someone will be back shortly, and I don’t want this overheard. When Webster shows up, let him come in. Keep your communicators open and draw him out as much as possible. Irritate him; make him reveal as much as you can. We have a recording unit attached to this set, and it’ll start operating as soon as you switch to band three. Call me there if you need me. . . . Can’t talk any more. lantosca’s coming back, and I can’t let him know too much yet.”

  There was a click before Peter could reply. He turned to the others. “They’re coming, but it’s too late. Webster will capture the ships before they get here, and that will be the end of the evidence. He probably won’t let anyone live to testify.”

  Laura's face was pale. She nodded as she whispered, “No . . . ‘the opposition’ must be crushed at all costs.” “Well, if we’re going to have company,” Barbara said, “I’d better go outside and watch for them,” “I'll join you,” Peter added. “Laura, you’re awfully tired. Take it easy for a while; you can relieve me later.”

  She smiled faintly and nodded again, then the two got into their suits. The other tent was farther back, around a bend. It would be used for living quarters.

  Peter waved to Laura, then shuffled after Barbara, who was heading for the cave entrance. “Heard anything from the guard?”

  “Not a word. They aren’t making with ultimatums any more. . . . Well, don’t forget that we three are witnesses too.” She gasped suddenly. “Pete, look there!” She pointed up toward the entrance. “The Patrol has arrived already.”

  They cut in the general band as two suited figures, with shortguns poised, advanced into the cavern and confronted them.

  “Hello!” Peter called. “We didn’t expect you . . “Stand where you are,” came Webster’s voice, cutting him off. “I have this shortgun trained on you, and Joe is covering your companion. Now! You two are going to tell me where your kidnaping friends have taken my niece, or your helmets will be blown open right now. The second pellets will take off your thieving heads!”

  Chapter 18 Breakthrough

  I he moment of silence that followed seemed endless to Peter. Webster’s shortgun lifted toward his head as the Ama chief repeated, “Where is Laura? Tell me!” There was a strained quality about his voice.

  “So you think we can tell you without our heads, is it?” broke in Barbara Abend. Peter found his voice then, and grated, "What makes you think Laura didn’t come here of her own free will, Webster?"

  “You dare imply that my niece would associate with criminals . . ." Webster began, then Vincennes interrupted. “Take it easy, Jeff. These people don't scare that way, and you can’t persuade them they’ve committed any crimes, either.”

  He looked around the cavern, without taking his gun off Peter. “Nice layout your friend has here, fellow, very neat and workmanlike. Since were here, you may as well be hospitable and invite us inside your tent.”

  Webster moved forward until he was beside one of the little spot lamps set in the wall. Peter was shocked at the drawn, aged look of his face. Webster spoke again, his voice lower, “You re playing some kind of trick. Why couldn’t you co-operate with me? I made you a fair offer.” He paused a minute, then added with deadly softness, “I want my niece, and I'm not the most patient man in the Belt.”

  Peter and Barbara turned toward the tent, the nearer one holding the communicators. Vincennes said, “I’m sure you have more sense than to try any monkey business on the way in. Mr. Webster is pretty upset, and there might be an accident.”

  They entered the tent silently and, at Webster’s insistence, took off their suits. Peter rested his hand against a communicator. Vincennes snapped, “Hands off, fellow; get away from that set and sit down.”

  Pete let his shoulders slump as if in defeat and took his hand away. Vincennes went over and looked at the communicator briefly. “Hm-m-m, switched to band three, eh? Well, perhaps we may decide to let you call your friends—whoever they are—later, if you co-operate.” He took off his helmet while Webster covered them, then watched the pair closely as Webster did the same. Both suits deflated, hanging on them in loose folds.

  The Ama chief looked over the tent thoughtfully. “You were foolish to resist,” he said. “It may take a little time, but my guard will capture all of your band. We’ll get them, even if we have to wreck a few ships doing it. Will you tell me now which ship Laura is on? The Claymore, perhaps—your father’s?”

  “I’ll tell you nothing so long as you call us kidnapers and thieves!” Peter answered. “Maybe you’ve beaten us, but you won’t make us confess to anything we didn’t do!”

  “Foolish, foolish,” sighed Vincennes. “What can you hope to gain now by not co-operating?”

  “What would we get if we did tell you?” put in Barbara.

  Webster was sitting down now, his eyes haunted. “Your father was right, fellow. Once I started treating people unfairly, I had to keep it up to hold onto the ground I’d gained in the first place. I know what you think of me, and what the others think, but you’ll see that it was all justified. The Asteroid Miners’ Association will bring new safety and cooperation to the Belt. No miner will have to fear his fellow men. Laura will bring a fresh, young hand to the controls.

  “I’ll be hated and despised now, but in years to come, people will forgive me for what I had to do to bring it about.” He looked up squarely at Peter and Ba
rbara. “I’ve fought a fight and won. Im not going to throw it away now—this was for Laura too. I don’t want to harm you, Peter Clay, after what you did for me back in Cerestown. But I will shoot you both if you defy me any longer.” He looked at Barbara Abend. “There’s an old saying from Earth—Ladies First/”

  The other communicator clicked, and Webster turned toward it. He paused as Alan Clay’s voice came through. “20-47! 20-47! Pete! Can you hear me, partner? Answer me if you hear.”

  “Answer him,” Vincennes said softly.

  “Yes . .. Dad . . .” Pete said.

  “How’s everything at the mine?”

  "Tell him everything is all right and ask him where he is,” said Vincennes.

  "It’s ... all right here, partner,” Pete said. "Where are you?”

  There was a recognizable chuckle from the set, then Glen s voice broke in. “We made it! We’re on the rogue I”

  Vincennes’ head shot up instantly. “The rogue—so that was it! How could they have landed without.. " “I thought you told me the Claymore was being followed,” Webster whispered fiercely.

  Vincennes gulped. "It was, Jeff. Dang it all, we saw that ship go past it. I don’t get . . T "We had one little piece of luck, Pete . . . and Barb, if you’re listening, you can thank Glen’s agile brain for seeing the chance. The fighter was following us, and it was too close for us to try landing the Claymore anywhere. They’d be sure to see. But the way the two ships and the asteroid were lined up, we were between the rogue and the fighter. Our exit-port was on the side away from them, so they wouldn’t see anything emerging from the Claymore.” "But they’d see the flash of your suits, wouldn’t they?”

  Clay chuckled again. "Well, I got a brainstorm too. We had a little time before the position would be right for a jump. You see, we had to get off at a time when we’d shoot out at the right angle, a little ahead of the rogue. It would come to meet us. Well, we took paint and blackened our suits, then strapped on oxygen tanks.”