using either serious violence or the even more futilecourse of supine submission. Here on Vesta, this had been the issue hehad faced all along. In many ages and many nations--and probably on manyplanets throughout the universe--others had faced it before him.
To his straining and tortured mind the trite and somewhat mockinganswers came: Psychology. Salesmanship. The selling of respect for one'sself.
Ah, yes. These were fine words. Glib words. But the question, "How?" wasmore bitter and derisive than ever.
Still, he had to try something--to make at least a forlorn effort. Andnow, from certain beliefs that he had, coupled with some vagueobservations that he had made during the last hour, a tatteredsuggestion of what form that effort might take, came to him.
As for his personal defects that had given him trouble in thepast--well--he was lugubriously sure that he had learned a final lessonabout liquor. For him it always meant trouble. As for wanderlust, andthe gambling and hell-raising urge--he had been willing to stay put onVesta, named for the goddess of home, for weeks, now. And he was nowabout to make his last great gamble. If he lost, he wouldn't be alive togamble again. If, by great good-fortune, he won--well he was certainthat all the charm of unnecessary chance-taking would, by the memory ofthese awful moments, be forever poisoned in him.
Now Rose and the youngsters came hurrying toward him.
"Back so soon, Johnny?" Rose called. "What's this? What happened?"
"Who's the guy, Pop?" Evelyn asked. "Oh--Baloney Nose.... What are youdoing with him?"
But by then they all had guessed some of the tense mood, and itsprobable meaning.
"Neely's pals are coming, Honey," Endlich said quietly. "It's theshowdown. Hide the kids. And yourself. Quick. Under the house, maybe."
Rose's pale eyes met his. They were comprehending, they were worried,but they were cool. He could see that she didn't want to leave him.
Evelyn looked as though she might begin to whimper; but her small jawhardened.
Bubs' lower lip trembled. But he said valiantly: "I'll get the guns,Pop, I'm stayin' with yuh."
"No you're not, son," John Endlich answered. "Get going. Orders. Get theguns to keep with you--to watch out for Mom and Sis."
Rose took the kids away with her, without a word. Endlich wondered howto describe what was maybe her last look at him. There were no fancywords in his mind. Just Love. And deep concern.
Alf Neely was showing signs of returning consciousness. Which was good.Still dragging him, Endlich went and got a bushel basket. It was filledto the brim with ripe, red tomatoes, but he could carry its tiny weighton the palm of one hand, scarcely noticing that it was there.
For an instant Endlich scanned the sky, through the clear plastic roofof the great bubble. He saw at least a score of shapes in space armor,arcing nearer--specks in human form, glowing with reflected sunlight,like little hurtling moons among the stars. Neely's pals. In a momentthey would arrive.
* * * * *
Endlich took Neely and the loaded basket close to the transparent sideof the greenhouse, nearest the approaching roughnecks. There he removedNeely's oxygen helmet, hoping that, maybe, this might deter his friendsa little from rupturing the plastic of the huge bubble and letting theair out. It was a feeble safeguard, for, in all probability, in case ofsuch rupture, Neely would be rescued from death by smothering and coldand the boiling of his blood, simply by having his helmet slammed backon again.
Next, Endlich dumped the contents of the basket on the ground, invertedit, and sat Neely upon it. The big man had recovered consciousnessenough to be merely groggy by now. Endlich slapped his battered facevigorously, to help clear his head--after having, of course, relievedhim of the blaster at his belt.
Endlich left his own face-window open, so that the sounds of Neely'svoice could penetrate to the mike of his own helmet phone, thus to betransmitted to the helmet phones of Neely's buddies.
Endlich was anything but calm inside, with the wild horde, asirresponsible in their present state of mind as a pack of idiot baboons,bearing down on him. But he forced his tone to be conversational when hespoke.
"Hello, Neely," he said. "You mentioned you liked tomatoes. Maybe youwere kidding. Anyhow I brought you along home with me, so you could havesome. Here on the ground, right in front of you, is a whole bushel. Theregular asteroids price--considering the trouble it takes to grow 'em,and the amount of dough a guy like you can make for himself out here, isfive bucks apiece. But for you, right now, they're all free. Here, havea nice fresh, ripe one, Neely."
The big man glared at his captor for a second, after he had lookeddazedly around. He would have leaped to his feet--except that the muzzleof his own blaster was leveled at the center of his chest, at a range ofnot over twenty inches. For a fleeting instant, Neely looked scared andprudent. Then he saw his pals, landing like a flock of birds, justbeyond the transparent side of the greenhouse. And he heard theirshouts, coming loudly from Endlich's helmet-phones:
"We come after you, Neely! We'll get the damn yokel off your neck....Come on, guys--let's turn the damn place upside down!..."
Neely grew courageous--yes, maybe it did take a certain animal nerve todo what he did. His battered and bloodied lip curled.
"Whatdayuh think you're up to, Pun'kin-head!" he snarled slowly, histone dripping contempt for the insanely foolish. He laughed sourly,"Haw-haw-haw." Then his face twisted into a confident and mocking leer.To carry the mockery farther, a big paw reached out and grabbed theproffered tomato from Endlich's hand. "Sure--thanks. Anything tooblige!" He took a great bite from the fruit, clowning the actionwith a forced expression of relish. "Ummm!" he grunted. In danger, hewas being the showman, playing for the approval of his pals. He wasproving his comic coolness--that even now he was master of thesituation, and was in no hurry to be rescued. "Come on, punk!" heordered Endlich. "Where is the next one, seeing you're so generous? Bepolite to your guest!"
Endlich handed him a second tomato. But as he did so, it seemed all thethings he dreaded would happen were breathing down his back. For thefaces that he glimpsed beyond the plastic showed the twisted expressionsthat betray the point where savage humor imperceptibly becomesmurderous. A dozen blasters were leveled at him.
But the eyes of the men outside showed, too, the kind of interest thatany odd procedure can command. They stood still for a moment, watching,commenting:
"Hey--Neely! See if you can down the next one with one bite!... Don'teat 'em all, Neely! Save some for us!..."
Endlich was following no complete plan. He had only the feeling thatsomewhere here there might be a dramatic touch that, by a long chance,would yield him a toehold on the situation. Without a word, he gaveNeely a third tomato. Then a fourth and a fifth....
Neely kept gobbling and clowning.
Yeah--but can this sort of horseplay go on until one man has consumed anentire bushel of tomatoes? The question began to shine speculatively inthe faces of the onlookers. It began to appeal to their wolfish sense ofcomedy. And it started to betray itself--in another manner--in Neely'sface.
* * * * *
After the fifteenth tomato, he burped and balked. "That's enough kiddin'around, Pun'kin-head," he growled. "Get away with your damned gardentruck! I should be beatin' you to a grease-spot right this minute!Why--I--"
Then Neely tried to lunge for the blaster. As Endlich squeezed thetrigger, he turned the weapon aside a trifle, so that the beam of energyflicked past Neely's ear and splashed garden soil that turnedincandescent, instantly.
John Endlich might have died in that moment, cut down from behind. Thathe wasn't probably meant that, from the position of complete underdogamong the spectators, his popularity had risen some.
"Neely," he said with a grin, "how can you start beatin', when you ain'tdone eatin'? Neely--here I am, trying to be friendly and hospitable, andyou aren't co-operating. A whole bushel of juicy tomatoes--symbols ofcivilization way the hell out here in the asteroids--and you haven'teven
made a dent in 'em yet! What's the matter, Neely? Lose yourappetite? Here! Eat!..."
Endlich's tone was falsely persuasive. For there was a steely note ofcommand in it. And the blaster in Endlich's hand was pointed straight atNeely's chest.
Neely's eyes began to look frightened and sullen. He shifteduncomfortably, and the bushel basket creaked under his weight. "You'reyella as any damn pun'kin!" he said loudly. "You don't fight fair!...Guys--what's the matter with you? Get this nut with the blaster offame!..."
"Hmm--yella," Endlich seemed to muse. "Maybe not as yella as you wereonce--coming around here at night with a whole gang, not so long
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