Read Ebook: Counterweight by Sohl Jerry

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 137 lines and 7951 words, and 3 pages

"You wonder at my reluctance, Mr. Ellason," Captain Branson said. "But suppose I assign the crew to patrol duties, the culprit isn't caught, and further incidents occur. What then? It soon becomes the crew's fault. And soon the colonists will begin thinking these things might be the crew's doing in the first place."

"Yes," Ellason said, "but what if the intruder is a crewman?"

"I know my men," Branson said flatly.

"You could have a shake-down for the mask and the seed case."

"Do you think it is a member of the crew?" Branson's eyes were bright. "No, I trust my men. I won't violate that trust."

Ellason left, feeling uneasy. If he were Branson, he'd initiate an investigation, if nothing else than to prove the crew guiltless. Why couldn't Branson see the wisdom of setting an example for the colonists?

Raymond Palugger was killed in the ship's hospital on the sixty-first day. Palugger, a Fourth Quadrant passenger, had complained of feeling ill, had been hospitalized with a diagnosis of ileus. He had put his money belt in the drawer of the small stand beside his bed. A man in a red mask was seen hurrying from the hospital area, and a staff investigation revealed that Palugger had died trying to prevent the theft of the belt.

Captain Branson did not wait for the newsletter. Through the ship's speaker system, he reported that Palugger had a fortune in credits in the belt and had died of a severe beating. He said that since the incident occurred in the staff section of the ship, his crew would be forced to submit to a thorough inspection in an effort to find the mask, the seed case, the money and the man.

"I will not countenance such an act by a crewman," Branson said. "If and when he is found, he will be severely dealt with. But he might not be a member of the crew. I am ordering an assembly of all passengers at nine tomorrow morning in the auditorium. I will speak to you all then."

Faces were angry, tongues were sharp at the meeting, eyes suspicious and tempers short. Above it all was the overpowering presence of Captain Branson speaking to them.

"It is not my desire to interfere in passenger affairs," he said. "Insofar as the ship is concerned, it is my duty to make certain no crewman is guilty. This I am doing. But my crew is not and cannot be a police force for you. It is up to you people to police and protect yourselves."

"How can we protect ourselves without stunners?" one colonist called out.

"Has Red Mask a gun?" Branson retorted. "It seems to me you have a better weapon than any gun."

"What's that?"

"This ship is only so wide, so long and so deep. If every inch is searched, you'll find your man. He has to be somewhere aboard."

The colonists quieted. Benjamin Simpson, one of the older men, was elected president of the newly formed Quadrant Council. One man from each of the quadrants was named to serve under him. Each of these men in turn selected five others from his own group.

Those assembled waited in the hall while each team of six inspected the compartments of the others. These compartments were then locked, everyone returned to his compartment, and the larger search was conducted. It took twenty hours.

No mask was found. No mask, no case, no money, no man.

The captain reported that his search had been equally fruitless. At another assembly the following day it was decided to make the inspection teams permanent, to await further moves on the part of Red Mask. The Quadrant Council held periodic meetings to set up a method of trial for him when he was caught. It was all recorded in the newsletter and by Keith Ellason.

During sleep time on the seventy-ninth day Barbara Stoneman, awakened by a strange sound, sat up in the bed of her compartment to find a man in a red mask in her room. Her cries brought neighbors into the corridor. The flight of the man was witnessed by many, and several men tried to stop him. But the intruder was light on his feet and fast. He escaped.

The Quadrant Council confronted the captain, demanding weapons.

"Are you out of your minds?" Branson exclaimed.

Tom Tilbury, Fourth Quadrant leader, said, "We want to set up a police force, Captain. We want stunners."

"There's no law against it," Branson said, "but it's a rule of mine that no weapons are to be issued en route."

"If we had had a gun, we'd have got Red Mask," Tilbury said.

"And I might have a murder on my conscience."

Tilbury said, "We've also thought of that. Suppose you supply us with half-power stunners? That way we can stun but not kill."

They got their guns. Now there were twenty-four policemen on duty in the corridors--eight on at a time. Ellason observed that for the first time the passengers seemed relaxed.

Let Red Mask move against armed men, they said.

Yeah, let him see what happens now.

Red Mask did.

On the 101st day he was seen in a corridor in Quadrant Four. Emil Pierce, policeman on duty, managed to squeeze off several shots at his retreating figure.

Red Mask was seen again on the 120th day, on the 135th day, and the 157th day. He was seen, shot at, but not hit. He was also unable to commit any crime.

We've got him on the run, the colonists said.

He's afraid to do anything, now that we've got police protection, they said smugly.

The Quadrant Council congratulated itself. The passengers were proud of themselves. A special congratulatory message from Captain Branson appeared one day in the Bulletin newsletter.

The colonists settled down to living out the rest of the voyage until the landing on Antheon.

But on the 170th day calamity struck. Red Mask appropriated one of the stunners, made his way down one whole corridor section in Quadrant Two, put occupants to sleep as he went, taking many articles of value and leaving disorder behind.

Ellason interviewed as many victims as he could, noted it all in his book. The things taken were keepsakes, photographs and items of personal value. It seemed to be the work of a madman. If Red Mask wanted to make everyone furious, he certainly succeeded.

"What does he want that stuff for?" Casey Stromberg, a passenger doctor, asked. "I can see him taking my narcotics, my doctor's kit--but my dead wife's picture? That I don't understand."

It was the same with others. "The man's insane, Mr. Ellason. Positively insane." Many people said it.

The council issued orders that all passengers from now on would be required to lock their compartments at all times. More guns were obtained from the captain. More policemen were appointed.

Ellason was busy noting it all in his book. It became filled with jottings about innocent people being accidentally stunned when trigger-happy policemen thought their movements suspicious, about one man's suspicion of another and the ensuing search of compartments, people who saw Red Mask here, saw him there. Hardly a day went by without some new development.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Ellason, we're going to get him," said Tilbury, now chief of police, cracking his knuckles, his eyes glowing at the thought. "We're bound to get him. We've got things worked out to the finest detail. He won't be able to get through our fingers now. Just let him make so much as a move."

"And what will you do when you get him?"

"Kill him," Tilbury said, licking his lips, his eyes glowing more fiercely than ever.

"Without a trial?"

"Oh, there'll be a trial, Mr. Ellason, but you don't think any jury'd let him live after all the things he's done, do you?"

Red Mask was stunned in Quadrant Four in a corridor by a policeman named Terryl Placer on the 201st day. The criminal was carried to the assembly room surrounded by guards, for he surely would have been mauled, if not killed, by angry colonists who crowded around. In the assembly hall his mask was whipped off. The crowd gasped. Nobody knew him.

Ellason's first thought was that he must be a stowaway, but then he remembered the face, and Captain Branson, who came to have a look at him, unhappily admitted the man was a member of the crew. His name was Harrel Critten and he was a record keeper third class.

"Well, Critten," Branson roared at him, "what have you got to say for yourself?"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet