by Don Wilcox
“I did know her,” Glasgow said. “She was on the other ship when Paul Keller pulled his big deal. It was a dreadful piece of violence. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. You don’t know Keller, do you?”
“Not personally,” George felt himself grow pale. His fingers were trembling. “I don’t get you. Accident?”
“Accident, hell. Keller had sold out the earth. He didn’t dare take anyone but his wife in on the deal. He opened fire on the others. I happened to get away. But I saw him shoot the other ship down—the one your friend was on. It plunged into the river, and that was how he checked off five.”
“But Judy! Judy Longworth! My girl!”
“I’m telling you, he shot her down without warning. It was all a part of this deal with the giants . . .”
But George wasn’t hearing any more. He slumped against the wall, suddenly numbed by the awful news that was part truth and part lie. Anna helped him to a comfortable seat—to a position where he could relax.
“If the lad’s feeling ill,” Glasgow’s voice sounded through George’s stunned feelings, “I’ll take the controls. We’ve got to get out of here.”
The snap of the levers sounded, the flivver eased into motion and leaped out into the morning sky.
CHAPTER XI
George came back to consciousness slowly. He was lying on a blanket on the ground, and as he opened his eyes he saw streaks of sunlight filtering down through the leaves. At first he thought of the summer camps of his boyhood. Or was this a picnic? They were having breakfast under the trees. He could hear their conversation. Strange voices, but friendly ones.
“Do have something to eat, Mr. Waterfield. It will help you not to worry . . . More coffee, Judge Lagnese?”
George drew a deep breath. The aroma of coffee was good. He raised up on one elbow. The midforenoon sun was high above a jagged black mountain. The Banrab Valley. Of course. This was the party of travelers from the Venus Express. The passengers and the crew. They were eating breakfast outdoors, watching for any approaching dangers.
The bright fuselage of the Venus Express gleamed in the sunlight in the center of the clearing. Such a ship offered ample protection against any earthly danger. They might have stayed aboard, but George gathered from their conversation that their sentiments for Old Mother Earth were full and deep on this particular morning.
His thoughts flashed through the nightmarish events of the preceding hours. The giant . . . the savagely aggressive little Mr. Glasgow . . . the awful news of Judy Longworth . . .
George closed his eyes to believe it was all a dream. But the conversations were beating against his ears.
“I know it’s terrible, Judge Lagnese. If the giants have done it, like Mr. Glasgow said . . . well, there must be some way . . .”
The large woman with the deep, confident voice was doing her best to restore the spirits of the men.
“You mustn’t worry yourself sick, Mr. Waterfield. That won’t help anyone, you know.”
“Thank you, I’m trying not to worry. I’m shocked. Deeply shocked—naturally.” The man who had been addressed as Mr. Waterfield sipped his coffee slowly. “My fortune was made here on the earth. The earth has been good to me. Now my best investments are gone.”
The group around the camp table looked at him and George could feel the sincerity of their sympathy. Mr. Waterfield had been one of the earth’s billionaires. Unlike some men of wealth, he had been a friend of all classes of people.
“Your investments?” someone asked. “I thought you had taken your wealth to Venus, Mr. Waterfield. Didn’t you finance the American Colony there?”
“My best investments were my many friends here on the earth.” Waterfield’s lips tightened. George saw he was a man of perhaps fifty-five, black-haired and beetle-browed, with deep-set eyes that were at once fierce and kind.
The two high-spirited persons in the party were the large motherly woman who was serving coffee and her diminutive husband. They were a pair of professional entertainers, as George soon learned. Mamma Mountain and Papa Mouse. They had returned to the earth for a series of theater engagements.
“If you eat well, your worries don’t weigh so heavy,” Papa Mouse was saying. “Look at my wife. She don’t worry and she’s as light as a feather.”
They managed to laugh. Mamma Mountain weighed at least three hundred. She gave her impish husband an affectionate hug. He pretended that it was too much for him and when she stepped aside, he fell on his face in the grass as if he had fainted.
“Save your clowning, honey,” Mama Mountain said, picking him up with one hand and setting him on his feet. “We’re not in the mood for it.”
In here was Anna Pantella? And where was Garritt Glasgow? The group had mentioned Glasgow; and there had been some nervous talk of the giant. It was evident that they had had the benefit of Glasgow’s story of Paul Keller, the traitor, and his Mogo destroyer.
George suddenly came to his feet.
“Where’s my ship?”
Until this moment, the breakfast group had thought him asleep. Mamma Mountain called to him. “Come on over and have some breakfast, young man.”
George’s feet tangled in the blanket. He picked it up and folded it, trying to collect his dizzy thoughts. He felt terribly alone with these strangers until they began to thank him for having guided them in from space.
“We found your landing place without any trouble,” the ship’s captain said. “How are you feeling this morning? They said you were ill.”
The fever leaped through George’s brain. Ill, was he? Maybe so. Maybe they’d drugged him. If they hadn’t, why should he be ill? The strain of his recent space ship jaunts was not enough to account for his grogginess.
“Where are they?”
In answer, the captain glanced toward the ship. But at that moment the little red-faced old man with the white moustache and goatee stepped up with a dramatic question. And when Judge Lagnese asked a question, his rich courtroom manner commanded attention.
“Young man, I’m checking up. You were with Garritt Glasgow. Did you see a giant?”
“Did I? He almost stepped on us.”
“Was he quite large?”
“About six times as tall as a skyscraper. Maybe ten. He was big.” George backed away, glancing to the side. “Where’s my space flivver?”
“How many arms did he have?”
“Four. Where’s—”
“How many legs?”
“Four.”
“Heads?”
“One. Where’s my—”
“Could you lead us to this giant?”
“Why should I want to?” George retorted with somewhat less dignity than Judge Lagnese evidently expected. The judge’s red face grew redder as he looked George up and down. One good friendship ruined by a discourteous answer, George thought.
“I mean,” George added, “if he’s looking for people to crush, I wouldn’t want to lead anyone into danger. He had Garritt Glasgow in a cage, you know, inside his big ship, on a shelf.”
The captain, the billionaire, and the judge exchanged looks and nods. The captain asked, “Were there any other people around besides you and the girl and Glasgow?”
“The two traitors,” George said. More nods. They were checking up on Glasgow’s story and this apparently satisfied them. They asked for a description of the Kellers. George couldn’t give them many details. He had been too busy rescuing Glasgow.
The judge threw in a skeptical question. “How do you know the Kellers are traitors?”
George felt that his own honesty was being attacked. “I got the story from Glasgow.”
“How do you know he wasn’t lying?”
“It looked straight to me,” George said staunchly. “The Kellers and the giant were hobnobbing like old friends. Anybody that’s that friendly with giants that have just destroyed the earth—”
“How do you know the giants did it?” The little red-faced old man was playing his courtroom habits as if fo
r his own secret pleasure.
“How do I know?” George began to stammer. “How do I know? Hell, I’ve seen the earth all ripped up. And I’ve seen the giant. And I’ve seen his thirteen-mile ship. If that isn’t proof enough—”
Mr. Waterfield interrupted with a quieter note. “After all, Judge Lagnese, this young man is only giving us his best guess.”
The judge turned away, grumbling. “I’ve seen some strange things in my day. But it’s hard to believe that people like the Kellers would spring such a dastardly plot.”
George followed him angrily. “Maybe you don’t believe there’s a giant.”
“I’ll take your word for that. And the girl’s. She gave us a vivid description.”
“Did you ask her about the Kellers?” George demanded. “Where is she?”
Someone answered that she was having her night’s sleep this morning in one of the berths in the Venus Express.
George started off toward the big ship. He wanted a few words with Anna Pantella. But the conversation caught him again and he turned back to listen. The captain was telling the others that there was no use for anyone to remain on the earth now. They might as well all board the Express and go back to Venus for their own safety.
“The earth is dead,” the captain said. “In years to come there’ll be salvage expeditions. After the smoke has cleared and the oceans have found new beds, men will come back this way again. But for the present we’d just as well leave this shell of death.”
“Leave it to whom?” the fiery judge asked, reddening again. “To the giant?”
“To the giant and the two earth people who did the dastardly deed. I can’t think of a fitter punishment than to give them what they asked for. A ruined planet, all their own doing.”
The judge shook his head. “We’re being short-sighted. If giants get a toe hold on this globe, they’ll make a military base of it. Next, they come to Venus. Then to Mars. Before your generation passes, Captain, the solar system shall have passed out of our hands.”
There was cold silence as these grave men stood, staring at each other, trying to imagine their way through the dark future. Mamma Mountain and Papa Mouse stood by, looking forlorn.
“I’ve got a hunch our theater engagements are all cancelled,” Papa Mouse said, raising an eyebrow toward Mamma.
More silence. George crowded back into the circle. He spoke, and his words were tense.
“Listen. This earth is my home. I’ve never gone to Venus to live. Or Mars. Or any other planet. I belong to the earth, and I figure a share of it belongs to me. I don’t care where the rest of you go. This is my headquarters, right here.”
“Humph,” said Mamma Mountain. “That’s just what the girl said.”
“The two youngsters can get married and start civilization all over,” said Papa Mouse with a wink.
“If they do,” said Mamma Mountain, “it’ll be a healthy race. No runts like you, Papa.”
“Leave the girl out of this,” George snapped. “I’m stating my own views, no one else’s.”
Then the little old judge galvanized the group with a speech that was like a courtroom verdict.
“Good, young man. I’m for you. Stick by the earth. You young folks have got the spirit. I wish I were your age again. I’d go to work and rebuild this planet. I’d equip it with the best space ports this side of the Milky Way. And the best people. And the best government. And the best ideas. If I were fifty years younger—”
The judge shook a fist in the air and in his fiery enthusiasm he suddenly threw his dignity to the winds.
“If I were fifty years younger—but hell, I’m not so old. Let’s get busy and rebuild!”
“Let’s rebuild!” It was Waterfield, the man of wealth, who echoed the judge’s words, his dark eyes blazing.
“We’ve got the beginnings right here,” the judge said, gesturing all around the circle. When he came to George he made a gavel of his hand and beat the air to emphasize his edict. “And you, young man—as long as I have anything to do with the government of this ruined earth, you and that young lady are to have a place on the governing committee.”
All at once they were making plans. A few of them would stay here at Banrab while the others went back to Venus for new equipment, financial support, and recruits to the cause of a brand new earth. They decided that for the present they should encamp in certain nearby caves, to be safe in case the giant came this way.
“I can keep watch on the giant,” George volunteered. Then a forgotten question mark jumped through his mind again. “Where is my space flivver? Where did they park it? I haven’t seen Glasgow since I woke up. Where—”
“Didn’t I tell you?” the captain asked. “Glasgow borrowed it. He said you wouldn’t mind. He has a scheme to get rid of the giant, and he knew where to get help right away.”
“The hell. Where’d he go?”
“To Venus,” said the captain. “He could have waited for me. I’m taking off with the Express right away.”
“You’ve got an extra passenger,” said George.
CHAPTER XII
As soon as the Express had plunged into the skies toward Venus, George cornered Anna on the observation deck. She looked back at the earth, receding into the blackness, and yawned, pretending to be too sleepy to talk.
“Listen, Little Gal Blue,” he said, alluding to the blue and white sport dress she was wearing. “When friend Glasgow decided to run off with my ship, why didn’t you blow your horn?”
“I didn’t like it, Big Boy, believe me. But I was so sleepy.”
“You sleepy? What about me?”
“You were sick.”
“Maybe.”
“After that bad news—”
“Yeah.”
“Glasgow gave you something to make you sleep, and I’ll swear he gave you too much. But maybe it eased the shock for you.”
“I guess so.”
“I’m awfully sorry about Judy Longworth, Big Boy. Maybe I kidded you about her at first. But I know how you must feel. If there’s ever anything I can do—”
“Thanks, Pantella.” He felt more friendly toward her. “But darn it, his running off with that ship is pretty high-handed business. I don’t like it.”
“I understand. My brother—”
“As long as you have a space flivver to run around in you’re sort of free. If you want to spin around the sun or take a swing out to Jupiter you can get in and go.”
“I know.” She was being sympathetic for once.
“Or if you just want to be alone with your own thoughts, you can coast around the moon.”
“Sure, Big Boy. I know how you feel. Losing a space ship is like losing a leg or two.”
“That’s it. That’s the reason I’m making this trip to Venus. To try to find Glasgow.”
“That’s why I came!” Anna exclaimed. “Look, I’ve already got a lead. I sneaked an item out of his billfold.”
She handed George a small autographed snapshot. It was a picture of a sharp-eyed woman whose bird-like features resembled Glasgow’s. The glittering earrings and hat of wingmen’s plumes looked expensive. The picture was inscribed, “Your sister, Madam Zukor.”
“I have a hunch that my brother on Venus will have heard of this Madam Zukor,” Anna said.
Later on the voyage George related to Anna a part of the Banrab camp conversation.
“The judge pretended he was skeptical about Glasgow, and once he seemed to be defending the Kellers. You know, sometimes I wish we could have had a word with them.”
“They’d probably have told the giant to throw us in the pen,” Anna said pessimistically.
George’s pessimism concerning his borrowed flivver dominated his mood throughout the trip. It was the only ship of its kind, and it was his.
“Forget it,” Anna would say. “There are bigger things. Wait ‘til we see what the Venus capital is planning to do about the old earth.”
“They may not be so anxious to do anything,” s
aid George gloomily.
“Some will help, anyway. It won’t be like I first thought. Wasn’t I silly, Big Boy? I mean—” She hesitated, reddening a little.
“Silly? How?”
“Silly for thinking that you and I would be the only ones to bring human life back to the planet. Why didn’t you swing at me and bust my teeth in, like you said once?”
“Heck, that idea wasn’t so silly. I mean, at first it was the natural thing to jump to crazy conclusions like that.” He added sternness to his voice. “But don’t ever mention it again.”
Venus came in sight, the broad land smiling up at them as they descended. There was a sickening hour of retarding, at last swiftly entering into the atmosphere. Now they were air cruising, skimming low. A flock of native wing-men flew in a long string like a cloud across their path. A moment later they were landing at the port of the Venus capital, the pink and white stone city built by the colony of Americans.
CHAPTER XIII
In The Silver Silver Garden, one of the expensive all night restaurants in the capital of Venus, Vida Glasgow, better known as Madame Zukor, drank a toast to her brother.
“I knew you were ambitious, Garritt, but I didn’t expect you’d try to become King of the Earth.”
“King is an old-fashioned word,” said Glasgow. He sipped his drink with the air of a man who is about to be toasted by all the world.
“Dictator, then?”
“The word is in bad repute. Let us say, Director.”
“Garritt Glasgow, Director of the Earth. It has a nice rhythm to it, Garritt.” She responded to his smile of secrecy, her dark eyelids half closed.
“You may count on me. But you must get the Kellers out of the way. You don’t want those Mogo murders to boomerang.”
“Murder is an ugly word,” Glasgow said. “Shall we say indiscretions?”
“We’ll be on speaking terms with lots of ugly words before you become Director of the Earth. Your very first job is to murder the Kellers’.”