Police Your Planet

by Lester Del Rey

  Chapter X

  MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE

  Bruce Gordon jerked the door open to yell for Izzy while he tucked thebit of notebook cover into his pocket. Then he stopped as somethingnibbled at his mind; the odor Gordon had smelled before registered. Heyanked out the bit of notebook and sniffed. It hadn't been close enoughfor any length of time to be contaminated by Mother Corey, so the smellcould only come from one place.

  He checked the batteries on his suit and put it on quickly. There was nopoint in wearing the helmet inside the dome, but it was better thantrying to rent one at the lockers. He buckled it to a strap. The knifeslid into its sheath, and the gun holster snapped onto the suit. As afinal thought, he picked up the stout locust stick he'd used underMurdoch.

  There were no cabs outside tonight, of course. The streets were almostdeserted, except for some prowler or desperation-driven drug addict. Heproceeded cautiously, however, realizing that it would be just likeSheila to ambush him. But he reached the exit from the dome with notrouble.

  "Special pass to leave at this hour," the guard there reminded him. "Ofcourse, if it's urgent, pal..."

  Gordon was in no mood to try bribes. He let his hand drop to the gun."Police Sergeant Gordon, on official business," he said curtly. "Get thehell out of my way."

  The guard thought it over, and reached for the release. Gordon swungback as he passed through. "And you'd better be ready to open when Icome back."

  He was in comparative darkness almost at once, and tonight there was nosign of the lights of patrolling cops. Then three specks of glaring bluelight suddenly appeared in the sky, jerking his eyes up. They weredropping rapidly.

  Rockets that flamed bright blue--military rockets! Earth was finallytaking a hand!

  He crouched in a hollow that had once been some kind of a basement untilthe ships had landed and cut off their jets. Then he stood up, blinkinghis eyes until they could again make out the pattern of the dim bulbs.He'd seen enough by the rocket glare to know that he was headed right.And finally the ugly half-cylinder of patched brick and metal that wasthe old Mother Corey's Chicken Coop showed up against the faint light.

  He moved in cautiously, as silently as he could, and located thesemi-secret entrance to the building without meeting anyone. Once in thetunnel that led to the building, he felt a little safer.

  He removed his helmet, and strapped it to the back of his suit, out ofthe way. The old hall was in worse shape than before. Mother Corey hadrun a somewhat orderly place, with constant vigilance; Bruce Gordoncould never have come into the hallway without being seen in the olddays.

  Then a pounding sound came from the second floor, and Gordon drew backinto the denser shadows, staring upwards. A heavy voice picked up theexchange of shouts.

  "You, Sheila, you come outa there! You come right out or I'm gonna blastthat there door down. You open up."

  Gordon was already moving up the stairs when a second voice reached him,and this one was familiar. "Jurgens don't want _you_; all he wants isthis place--we got use for it. It don't belong to you, anyhow! Come outnow, and we'll let you go peaceful. Or stay in there and we'll blast youout--in pieces."

  It was the voice of Jurgens' henchman who had called on Mother Coreybefore elections. The thick voice must belong to the big ape who'd beenwith him.

  "Come on out," the little man cried again. "You don't have a chance.We've already chased all your boarders out!"

  Gordon tried to remember which steps had creaked the worst, but hewasn't too worried, if there were only two of them. Then his headprojected above the top step, and he hesitated. Only the rat and the apewere standing near a heavy, closed door. But four others were loungingin the background. He lifted his foot to put it back down to a lowerstep, just as Sheila's muffled voice shrilled out a fog of profanity. Hegrinned, and then saw that he'd lifted his foot to a higher step.

  There was a sharp yell from one of the men in the background and a knifesailed for him, but the aim was poor. Gordon's gun came out. Two of themen were dropping before the others could reach for their own weapons,and while the rat-faced man was just turning. The third dropped withoutfiring, and the fourth's shot went wild. Gordon was firing rapidly, butnot with such a stupid attempt at speed that he couldn't aim each shot.And at that distance, it was hard to miss.

  Rat-face jerked back behind the big hulk of his partner, trying to pulla gun that seemed to be stuck; a scared man's ability to get his gunstuck in a simple holster was always amazing. The big guy simply lunged,with his hands out.

  Gordon side-stepped and caught one of the arms, swinging the huge bodyover one hip. It sailed over the broken railing, to land on the floorbelow and crash through the rotten planking. He heard the man hit thebasement, even while he was swinging the club in his hand toward therat-faced man.

  There was a thin, high-pitched scream as a collarbone broke. He slumpedonto the floor, and began to try hitching his way down the steps. Gordonpicked up the gun that had fallen out of the holster as the man fell andput it into his pouch. He considered the two, and decided they would beno menace.

  "Okay, Sheila," he called out, trying to muffle his voice. "We got themall."

  "Pie-Face?" Her voice was doubtful.

  He considered what a man out here who went under that name might belike. "Sure, baby. Open up!"

  "Wait a minute. I've got this nailed shut." There was the sound of aneffort of some kind going on as she talked. "Though I ought to let youstay out there and rot. Damn it ... uh!"

  The door heaved open then, and she appeared in it; then she saw him, andher jaw dropped open slackly. "You!"

  "Me," he agreed. "And lucky for you, Cuddles."

  Her hand streaked to a gun in her belt. "Kill him!"

  This time, he didn't wait to be attacked. He went for the door, knockingher aside. His knee caught the outside of her hip as she spun; she fellover, dropping the gun.

  The two men in the room were both holding knives, but in the ridiculousoverhand position that seems to be an ingrained stupidity of the humanrace, until it's taught better. A single flip of his locust club againsttheir wrists accounted for both of the knives. He grabbed them by thehair of their heads, then, and brought the two skulls together savagely.

  Sheila lay stretched out on the floor, where her head had apparentlystruck against the leg of a bed. Gordon shoved the bodies of the two menaside and looked down at the wreck of a man who lay on the dirtyblanket. "Hello, O'Neill," he said.

  The former leader of the Stonewall gang stared up at the club swingingfrom Gordon's wrist. "You ain't gonna beat me this time? I'm a sick man.Sick. Can't hurt nobody. Don't beat me again."

  Gordon's stomach knotted sickly. Doing something under the pressure ofnecessity was one thing; but to see the sorry results of it later wasanother. "All right," he said. "Just stay there until I get away fromthis rat's nest and I won't hit you. I won't even touch you."

  He was sure enough that it was no act on O'Neill's part; he wasn't sosure about Sheila. He checked the two men on the floor, who were stillout cold. Then he stepped through the door carefully, to make sure thatthe big bruiser hadn't come back.

  His ears barely detected the sound Sheila made as she reached for theknife of one of the men. Then it came--the faintest catch of breath.Gordon threw himself flat to the floor. She let out a scream as he sawher momentum carry her over him; she was at the edge of the rail, andstarting to fall.

  He caught her feet in his hands and yanked her back. There was nothingphony this time as she hit the floor.

  "Just a matter of co-ordination, Cuddles," he told her. "Little girlsshouldn't play with knives; they'll grow up to be old maids that way."

  Fury blackened her face, but she still couldn't function. He picked herup and tossed her back into the room. From the broken mattress on thebed, he dug out a coil of wire and bound her hands and feet with it.

  "Can't say I think much of your choice of companions these days," hecommented, looking toward the bed where O'Neill was cowering. "It loo
ksas if your grandfather picks them better for you."

  "You filthy-minded hog! D'you think I'd--I'd--One room in the place witha decent door, and you can't see why I'd choose that room to keepJurgens' devils back. You--You--"

  He'd been searching the room, but there was no sign of the notebookthere. He checked again to see that the wire was tight, and then pickedup the two henchmen who were showing some signs of reviving.

  "I'll watch them," a voice said from the door. Gordon snapped his headup to see Izzy standing there. He realized he'd been a lot less cautiousthan he'd thought.

  Izzy grinned at his confusion. "I got enough out of the Mother to casethe pitch," he said. "I knew I was right when I spotted the apemancarrying a guy with a bad shoulder away from here. Jurgens' punks, eh?"

  "Thanks for coming. What's it going to cost me?"

  "Wouldn't be honest to charge unless you asked me to convoy you,gov'nor. And if you're looking for the vixen's room, it's where youbunked before. I got around after I spotted you here."

  Sheila Corey forced herself to a sitting position and spat at Izzy."Traitor! Crooked little traitor!"

  "Shut up, Sheila," Izzy said. "Your retainer ran out."

  Surprisingly, she did shut up. Gordon went to the little space--and sawthat Izzy was right; there was a nearly used-up lipstick, a comb, and acracked mirror. There was also a small cloth bag containing a few scrapsof clothes.

  He turned the room upside down, but there was no sign of the notebook orpapers from it.

  He located her helmet and carried it down with him. "You're goingbye-bye, Cuddles," he told her. "I'm going to put this on you and thenunfasten your arms and legs. But if you start to so much as wiggle yourbig toe, you won't sit down for a month."

  She pursed her lips hotly, but made no reply. He screwed the helmet on,and unfastened her arms. For a second, she tensed, while he waited,grinning down at her. Then she slumped back and lay quiet as heunfastened her legs.

  He tossed her over his shoulder, and started down the rickety stairs.

  There was a little light in the sky. Five minutes later, it was fulldaylight, which should have been a signal for the workers to start fortheir jobs. But today they were drifting out unhappily, as if alreadysure there would be no jobs by nightfall.

  A few stared at Gordon and his burden, but most of them didn't even lookup. The two men trudged along silently.

  "Prisoner," he announced crisply to the guard, but there was no protestthis time. They went through, and he was lucky enough to locate abroken-down tricycle cab.

  Mother Corey let them in, without flickering an eyelash as he saw hisgranddaughter. Bruce Gordon dropped her onto her legs. "Behaveyourself," he warned her as he took off his helmet, and then unfastenedhers.

  Mother Corey chuckled. "Very touching, cobber. You have a way withwomen, it seems. Too bad she had to wear a helmet, or you might havedragged her here by her hair. Ah, well, let's not talk about it here. Myroom is more comfortable--and private."

  Inside, Sheila sat woodenly on the little sofa, pretending to see noneof them. Mother Corey looked from one to the other, and then back toGordon. "Well? You must have had some reason for bringing her here,cobber."

  "I want her out of my hair, Mother," Gordon tried to explain. "I canlock her up--carrying a gun without a permit is reason enough. But I'drather you kept her here, if you'll take the responsibility. After all,she's your granddaughter."

  "So she is. That's why I wash my hands of her. I couldn't control myselfat her age, couldn't control my son, and I don't intend to handle afemale of my line. It looks as if you'll have to arrest her."

  "Okay. Suppose I rent a room and put a good lock on it. You've got theone that connects with mine vacant."

  "I run a respectable house now, Gordon," Mother Corey stated flatly."What you do outside my place is your own business. But no women, exceptmarried ones. Can't trust 'em."

  Gordon stared at the old man, but he apparently meant just what he said."All right, Mother," he said finally. "How in hell do I marry herwithout any rigmarole?"

  Izzy's face seemed to drop toward the floor. Sheila came up off thecouch with a choking cry and leaped for the door. Mother Corey's immensearm moved out casually, sweeping her back onto the couch.

  "Very convenient," the old man said. "The two of you simply fill out aform--I've got a few left from the last time--and get Izzy and me towitness it. Drop it in the mail, and you're married."

  "If you think I'd marry you, you filthy--" Sheila began.

  Mother Corey listened attentively. "Rich, but not very imaginative," hesaid thoughtfully. "But she'll learn. Izzy, I have a feeling we shouldlet them settle their differences."

  As the door shut behind them, Gordon yanked Sheila back to the couch."Shut up!" he told her. "This isn't a game. Hell's popping here--youknow that better than most people. And I'm up to my neck in it. If I'vegot to marry you to keep you out of my hair, I will."

  Her face was pasty-white, but she bent her head, and fluttered hereyelashes up at him. "So romantic," she sighed. "You sweep me off myfeet. You--Why, you--"

  "Me or Trench! I can take you to him and tell him you're mixed up inSecurity, and that you either have papers on you or out at the ChickenCoop to prove it. He won't believe _you_ if I take you in. Well?"

  She looked at him a long time in silence, and there was surprise in hereyes. "You'd do it! You really would.... All right; I'll sign yourdamned papers!"

  Ten minutes later, he stood in what was now a connecting double room,watching Mother Corey nail up the hall door to the room that was to behers. There were no windows here, and his own room had an excellent lockon it already--one he'd put on himself. Izzy came back as Mother Coreyfinished the door and began knocking a small panel out of the connectingdoor. The old man was surprisingly adept with his hands as he fittedhinges and a catch to the panel, and re-installed it so that Sheilacould swing it open.

  "They're married," Izzy said. "It's in the mail to the register, alongwith the twenty credits. Gov'nor, we're about due to report in."

  Gordon nodded. "Be with you in a minute," he said as he paid MotherCorey for the materials and work. He jerked his head and the two menwent out, leaving him alone with Sheila.

  "I'll bring you some food tonight. And you may not have a private bath,but it beats the Chicken Coop. Here." He handed her the key to theconnecting door. "It's the only key there is."