Collected Fiction (1940-1963)

by William P. McGivern

  “Life for an exile is always monotonous,” Tojo said silkily. “How else could it be?”

  BARON VON MULTKE was chuckling again, his big shoulders shaking with the effort.

  “I am so stupid,” he said. “I have not even inquired why you are here, Lieutenant. I know you are a busy man and want to get on with your work, but still we stand around and talk of idle things. Enough! We are at your service, Lieutenant.”

  Both men, Ward noticed, seemed anxious to learn why he was there. It had been the first thing almost that Tojo had asked, and now the Baron was after the same information.

  Ward smiled inwardly at the irony of the situation. When he himself didn’t know definitely what he was looking for, how could these two worm the information from him?

  But he could sense a peculiar tenseness in the attitudes of Tojo and the baron. That might be a natural reaction to his surprise arrival, but he had the strange impression that they were waiting for some expected development.

  “That’s very kind of you,” he said. He realized that he had to advance some pretext for his presence, so he added, “As a matter of fact you might be able to help tremendously. Have either of you seen a very large, black space ship in the vicinity lately?”

  The question had been a spur-of-the-moment inspiration. It had popped out, almost without any conscious volition on his part.

  He heard something shatter against the floor and, looking down, he saw the scattered fragments of the monocle the baron had been holding loosely in his fingers. His eyes lifted slowly to the baron’s face. It was strained and white.

  “I said,” he repeated, “have either of you seen a large black space ship in the vicinity today?”

  “How clumsy of the baron,” Tojo said mildly. “He should know better than to let something slip.”

  There was a peculiar emphasis on the last word that Ward did not miss. There was definite undercurrent of feeling in the room now and he had the impression that it had been given impetus by his question about the black space ship. It might have been only his fancy, but he felt he was getting closer to the meaning of all the disassociated events that had happened in the last few weeks. Excitement boiled through him. There must be a pattern, a definite significant meaning to the twisted skein that he had been trying to unravel. And he felt he was close to it.

  A SHOUT from outside disrupted his thoughts. Tojo and the baron were looking beyond him to the door, an unveiled anticipation in their eyes.

  A tramp of feet sounded and two stocky, sly-looking half breeds crowded into the room. One of them addressed the baron.

  “Another ship from Earth has arrived.”

  Tojo flicked an inscrutable glance at Ward.

  “How charming,” he smiled. “Another visitor from Earth. This is indeed a fortunate day for the poor exiles.”

  “Good!” cried the baron. “Company to keep the young Lieutenant from being lonesome.”

  There was a deliberate heavy mockery in the words.

  There were the sounds of commotion outside the building. Shouts and tramping feet blended into a confused, noisy bedlam.

  “It is good,” Tojo said blandly. “Our new guests are being escorted here with proper ceremony.”

  Ward felt the skin tightening at the back of his neck. He knew his own game was almost over. If the new arrivals were Space Navy officers—as was almost certain—they would instantly denounce him and brig him for his theft of space ship.

  Tojo and the baron were both watching him closely, but even if they hadn’t been, it was too late to make any kind of a break. For the tramping feet were directly outside now, and an instant later the door swung back and the two stocky breeds pushed into the room—followed immediately by a slender figure wearing snugly fitting boots and breeches.

  Ward’s eyes widened incredulously as he recognized the new arrival as the last person in the universe he’d ever expected to see again anywhere—Ann Lear!

  CHAPTER V

  An Unexpected Development

  BARON VON MULTKE and Tojo were as dumbfounded as Ward. They were obviously expecting someone besides a slim blonde girl.

  “Welcome,” Tojo faltered. For once his imperturbable poise was shaken. “We are honored greatly by your presence.”

  Ann acknowledged his greeting with the briefest of nods, then turned to Ward. There was a tense urgency in her manner, but underlying it was an embarrassed hesitancy as she faced him.

  “Ward,” she said quietly, “I know you can’t be particularly happy seeing me again. I don’t expect you to thank me for following you here but I had to do it. You’re starting on a path that has no turning. If you let yourself be branded a thief to be hunted down like an interplanetary outlaw, it can only end in further disgrace and humiliation. A squadron of Earth ships is already searching for you. But it’s not too late to turn back. If you return to Earth and give yourself up I’m sure the Court will overlook your theft of an Earth fighting ship. It might even be possible to have your case reconsidered. Don’t you see it’s the only honorable thing you can do? Won’t you please, for my sake, give up this madness and return to Earth with me?”

  Ward looked at her steadily, his eyes impassive.

  “Your interest is very touching,” he said, at last.

  Tojo, the suave inscrutable Japanese, glanced interestedly from the girl to Ward. There was a pleasant expression on his face.

  “Please forgive my interrupting,” he purred, “but if the impetuous young Lieutenant has stolen an Earth fighting ship, it is a very serious concern of ours.”

  He turned and bowed slightly to the huge, blond Baron.

  “Do you agree with me, Baron Von Multke?”

  The German’s square white teeth flashed in a smile. There was no humor in the smile, just a gloating betrayal of intense inner satisfaction.

  “But certainly,” he snapped harshly. “The Lieutenant is here under false pretenses. He is probably a traitor to Earth. It is our duty to hold him until the accredited officers of Earth arrive to take him into custody.”

  There was a tense silence in the room as he finished speaking. The only persons in the room to move were the two breeds, and they stepped quietly in front of the door and folded their arms impassively. Ward noticed this and realized its significance.

  ANN looked in alarm from the hulking Von Multke to the diminutive Tojo.

  “You don’t understand,” she said anxiously. “I came here to take Ward back with me. If he gave himself up voluntarily the charges of stealing a ship would probably be dropped. You can’t hold him here if he is willing to return. It would ruin any chance there might be for him. They’d never believe he was intending to give himself up if they found him a prisoner here. Anyway, you have no authority to take him into custody.”

  Tojo smiled blandly.

  “I am certain the young lady has acted in only the most charitable intentions,” he said softly, “but that does not excuse us from performing our obvious duty. As far as authority is concerned, I’m sure the intelligent officers of Earth will overlook a slight violation of the letter of the law, in return for the custody of a culprit whom they are seeking. In fact they will probably be extremely grateful to us for our diligence and caution.”

  Ward was silent, but his brain was working swiftly. First, he realized that any attempt to escape would be foolishly impossible. Tojo and the Baron were determined to hold him, that was obvious. But why? Why were they so intent on his capture? There was an undercurrent of feeling in the room that he couldn’t analyze. Something was very rotten in the situation, but he was at a dead loss to place his finger on it.

  The only possible course for him was to play along in the role he was cast. That way he might pick up a clue as to what was brewing on this planetoid, and in the minds of its inhabitants. How he would utilize such information was another problem, possibly an insurmountable one, but he would face it when it arose.

  “All right,” he said heavily, “I seem to be hooked.”

&nbs
p; He glanced at Ann and the bitterness in his eyes was not part of his act.

  “I hope you’re satisfied with your girl scout activity,” he said ironically. “You can see it’s helped a lot.”

  Ann’s gaze dropped.

  “I—I’m terribly sorry, Ward,” she said miserably. “I’ve ruined everything in my clumsy effort to help.”

  Tojo coughed discreetly.

  “I dislike to intrude,” he said, “but necessity demands that I do. Until the fleet units from Earth arrive we must confine the young Lieutenant incommunicado.”

  He turned and bowed gravely to Ward.

  “If you are quite ready,” he said with faint sarcasm, “my men will escort you to your—ah—chamber.”

  “I am quite ready,” Ward said grimly.

  A signal passed between Tojo and the two stocky half breeds in the doorway, and they stepped forward one on either side of Ward. In silence Ward followed them from the room to the narrow street.

  They led him several hundred yards away from the main cluster of buildings to a small, ruggedly built, windowless structure. They opened the hut’s single door and when he stepped inside they slammed it after him.

  STANDING in the semi-darkness of the room, Ward waited until he heard the footsteps of his guards fading away before making a quick, thorough examination of his prison.

  In spite of its crudeness it seemed escape proof. The one door was latched from the outside and the wood planking that constituted the walls was at least two inches thick.

  He was unarmed. He didn’t even have a flashlight. All of his weapons and equipment were back on Earth, along with the naval uniform he no longer had a right to wear.

  Suddenly an electrifying thought clicked in his brain.

  He wasn’t wearing his uniform, but still Tojo and the Baron had referred to him as Lieutenant, even before Ann had arrived.

  How had they known he was an officer?

  There was no possible way that they could have known, unless they had been notified that he was on his way to the planetoid. But that was impossible. For there was no means of communicating with Exile Planetoid from Earth. That had been one of the conditions imposed on the banished war makers. Their exile from Earth was meant to be complete and final and for that reason no method of communication had ever been established on Exile Planetoid.

  Still . . .

  The baron and Tojo had given themselves away by their references to his rank. And if they had been informed that he was on his way to their planetoid, they must also have been told of his court martial and all the facts relating to it. They had not mentioned that, however. Ward realized that they couldn’t without giving themselves away. The arrival of Ann had been most opportune for them, he saw.

  When she spoke of his theft of the space ship and his court martial it gave Tojo and the baron the opportunity to act without committing themselves.

  The only answer was that, somehow, Exile Planetoid was in direct communication with Earth. That was a very serious state of affairs. For it meant that Exile Planetoid had managed to obtain metals, condensers, coils, visi-plates—all the forbidden products required to build a space transmitter.

  If they had managed to do this, what other plans had they made?

  Ward paced the narrow confines of his cell worriedly. Something was brewing that was a direct menace to Earth. It was the thing he had been brought up to expect by his father.

  He had not the faintest idea of what was going to happen, or how it was going to happen. But he had had the definite conviction that events were ready to explode. He could sense it in the faint contempt that was evident in Tojo’s attitude, and in the bluff arrogance of the baron. Still more conclusive was the fact that the renegades of this planetoid had managed to establish contact with someone on Earth.

  That meant that a fifth column was in existence.

  WARD balled his hands into square knotty fists. It was maddening to know these things and be powerless to prevent them, to be unable to warn the outer defenses of Earth to be on their guard. Even if he could warn them what could he say to make them realize the potential dangers of the situation?

  Exile Planetoid had no space ships. How could they attack Earth? Even Ward was ready to admit that it would be impossible to destroy Earth with only a space wireless. Still, an investigation should be made, Earth should be informed of the existence of a forbidden transmitter.

  Ward suddenly snapped his fingers.

  If a hidden transmitter was in use on Exile Planetoid it might be possible to use it to inform Earth receiving stations of its existence.

  Ward was familiar with the common types of transmitters in current use and he had no doubt of his ability to operate the instrument on Exile Planetoid.

  He smiled wryly as he sat down on a narrow cot that was placed against one wall of the room. All he had to do was smash his way out of this cell, find the hidden transmitter, overpower whoever was operating it and send his warning to Earth.

  That was all.

  Then his smile faded and tight hard lines of determination cut into his mouth. If that’s what had to be done—then that’s what would be done.

  “Putting first things first,” he muttered into the darkness, “getting out of here is the first point to consider.”

  Night fell. “Night” on Exile Planetoid lasted a little less than two hours, and Ward knew that whatever he hoped to accomplish would have to be done in that brief two-hour stretch of darkness.

  He made another careful examination of the small room in which he was confined, and he was forced to admit that he was securely trapped.

  A half-hour passed and his impatience increased. A precious half-hour of darkness wasted.

  Then he heard footsteps approaching. As they neared, his thoughts churned frantically.

  Any break he intended making would have to be made now or not at all. The footsteps approaching might be those of the guards returning with food, or for the purpose of transferring him to another cell-room.

  Whatever their reason for returning, Ward was grimly determined to seize an opportunity, however slight, to break free.

  THE steps came to a halt and after a slight wait, Ward saw the door of the cell swing open, revealing the bulky short figures of the two half breeds who had accompanied him to this guard house an hour or so before.

  One of the guards, a sullen-looking man with a predatory nose and full, pendulous lips, carried in his hands a crude tureen, from which steaming vapors emerged. The other guard held a heavy club in his hands, and his dull piggish eyes watched Ward unblinkingly. There was a sadistic gleam in those eyes, and Ward knew the fellow would take a savage delight in using the knotty club on his head.

  Neither of the two guards spoke a word as they shuffled into the room.

  The one with the steaming pot in his hands extended it to Ward with a peremptory gesture.

  It was obvious that it contained some form of soup or stew. Evidently, Ward thought bitterly, they didn’t intend to starve him. That wouldn’t suit their plans. They were anxious to turn him over to the Earth space force which would put in an appearance in a few hours. In that way they would lull any dormant suspicions in the minds of the commanders of Earth’s fighting forces, and reveal themselves in the light of peaceful, trustworthy people whose only aim and ambition was cooperation and friendliness with Earth. This deception would give them even greater opportunity to complete their rebellion against Earth without interference.

  What shape or form their rebellion would take, Ward hadn’t the faintest idea. The mere idea of Exile Planetoid, a barren, desolate speck in space, inhabited by only a few thousand unarmed humans, plotting rebellion against mighty Earth seemed preposterous, but Ward was bitterly aware that appearances could often be dangerously deceptive. No one on Earth, he knew, would dream that Exile Planetoid had established communication with Earth. Ward found that hard to believe himself, still the irrefutable evidence was there. They had known that he was on his way to the planetoid. I
f they had accomplished this much, what other forbidden projects might they be planning? What was their ultimate objective?

  Ward intended to find out—and damn the cost!

  THE hook-nosed guard was still standing before him, the steaming kettle in his hands, when Ward suddenly decided that speculation and guess-work would get him nowhere.

  Too much talking had already been done. That was the trouble with the Earth Council. Investigation followed investigation, discussion was interminable, and blunt direct action was never achieved.

  WARD suddenly galvanized into blunt, direct action. With one sweeping blow he knocked the steaming kettle from the guard’s hands. Surprised, the guard staggered back, and Ward stepped in, his fist swinging in a short vicious arc.

  A shrill, pain-crazed scream tore through the room as his fist landed with a crunching smack on the guard’s jaw. But it wasn’t the guard he had hit who had screamed.

  Wheeling, Ward saw that the guard who had carried the club was lying on the floor, screaming wildly, his entire torso drenched with the scalding hot contents of the soup tureen.

  The club was lying on the floor, forgotten by the man in his pain. Ward scooped it up and turned to face the hook-nosed guard, who was scrambling to his feet and lunging at him.

  With deliberate viciousness Ward swung the heavy club in a terrible, two-handed blow that caught the charging guard along the temple.

  Like a stunned steer, the hook-nosed half breed staggered backwards, his hands instinctively moving in a faltering gesture to his fractured skull. No sound came from his lips, no expression glistened in his glazed eyes as he fell to the hard floor and rolled limply onto his side.

  The screams of the scalded guard continued to hammer against Ward’s ears as he stepped quickly through the door of the crude prison. The blackness of Exile Planetoid’s brief night enveloped him instantly with its friendly oblivion.