withsavage disgust that the space-hero had come after all. There stood agorgeous young spark in absolutely conventional space-hero costume, notforgetting the top-boots or the close-clipped moustache. Parr movedback, as if to allow this young demigod the center of the stage.
But Varina Pemberton was not playing the part of heroine. Instead ofrushing in and embracing, she set her slim hands on her hips. She spoke,and her voice was acid: "It's high time you came, Captain Worrall. I didmy part of the job weeks ago."
The handsome fellow in uniform chuckled. "We weren't late, at least.We've been hiding here for some time--saw what this fellow I shot loosefrom the knife had in mind whole hours ago. But we also saw theseothers," and he nodded toward Parr. "They sneaked up in such abusiness-like manner, I hadn't the heart to spoil their rescue."
* * * * *
Other uniformed men--hands of the Terrestrial Space Fleet--were cominginto view from among the boughs. They, too, were armed. Ling walkedacross to Parr, a struggling captive under each arm.
"What are these strangers up to, boss?" he demanded. "Say the word andI'll wring that officer's neck. I never liked officers, anyway."
"Wait," Parr bade him. Then, to the man called Captain Worrall: "Justwhat are you doing here?"
"This asteroid," replied Worrall, "is now Terrestrial territory. We'refortifying it against the Martians. War was declared three weeks ago,and we made rocket-tracks for this little crumb. It's an ideal base fora flanking attack."
Parr scowled. "You're fortifying?" he repeated. "Well, you'd better shagout of here. There's a power--not working just now, but--"
"No fear of that," Varina Pemberton told him. She was smiling.
"I can explain best by starting at the start. Recently we got a reportof what the Martians were doing out here. We realized that Earth musttake care of her own, these poor devils who were being pushed back intoanimalism. Also, with war inevitable--"
"You aren't starting at the start," objected Parr. "Where do you fitinto all this? You're no soldier."
"Oh, but she is," Captain Worrall said, offering Parr a cigarette from aplatinum case. "She's a colonel of intelligence--high ranking. Wonderfuljob you've done, Colonel Pemberton."
She took up the tale again: "If the reverse-evolution power could bedestroyed, this artificially habitable rock in space would be a greatprize for our navy to capture. So I took a big chance--got myself framedto a charge of Murder on Mars, and was the first woman ever sent here. Iknew fairly accurately when war would break out, and figured I hadmonths to do my work in. That captured armor gave me the clue."
"All I knew was that it gave off a vibration," nodded Parr.
"Exactly. Which meant that the evolution-reverse was vibratory, too. Iconfided in Sadau, and he and I pieced the rest of the riddle together.The vibrator would be inside, where nobody would venture for fear ofjamming the gravity-core--but we ventured--"
"And shut it off!" cried Parr.
"More than that. We reversed it, started it again at top speed to causea recovery from the degeneration process. Clever, these Martians--theyfix it so you can shuttle to and fro in development. Already the higherbeast-men are back to normal, like Rupert there, and the others will beall right, soon."
"You had every right to chase me off at the end of a pistol," said Parr."I might have gummed the works badly."
"You nearly did that anyway," Varina Pemberton accused. "Fighting,raiding, stirring up the Martians who might have put a crimp in my plansany moment--but, being the type you are, you couldn't do otherwise. Irecognized that when I gave you the protective armor."
He gazed at her. "Why didn't you keep it for yourself?"
"No," and she shook her tawny head. "I figured to win or lose verypromptly. But you, armored against degeneration, might live after me andbe an awful problem to the Martians. Remember, I didn't make you give itback until I had done what I came to do."
Worrall spoke again: "Colonel, these exiles must stay until all effectsof the degeneration influence is gone. They'll figure as civilians, withcolonists' rights. That means they must have a governor, to cooperatewith the military garrison. Will that be you?"
Shanklin dared to speak: "I am chief--"
"Arrest that man," the girl told two space-hands. "No, Captain. But I'msenior officer, and I'll make an appointment. By far the best fittedperson for the governorship is Fitzhugh Parr."
The other exiles had pressed close to listen. Sadau, the diplomatic, atonce set up a cheer. Ling added his own loyal bellow, and the othersjoined in. Parr's ears burned with embarrassment.
"Have it your way," he said to them all. "We'll live here, get normal,and help all we can. But first, what have we to eat? We've got guests."
"No, governor, you're the guest of the garrison," protested CaptainWorrall. "Come aboard my ship yonder. I'll lend you a uniform, andyou'll preside at the head of the table tonight."
"Varina Pemberton," Parr addressed the girl who had caused so muchtrouble and change on the little world of exile, "will you come and sitat my right hand there?"
"A pleasure," she smiled, and put her arm through his.
Everybody cheered again, and both Parr and the girl blushed.
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