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Read Ebook: The Sun-Death by Whiteside Stanley
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Ebook has 449 lines and 15358 words, and 9 pages
THE SUN-DEATH
In the glittering control room of the ship Ray Burk, Navigator Unlimited, turned from the viewport with a frown.
"It seems a pity to burn down their shacks," he muttered.
Lodar, pacing restlessly back and forth, made no reply. His black eyebrows merely lifted sardonically as he continued his heavy strides. It was typical of Lodar, whose vast energy kept him ceaselessly active, but in the confines of a ship it was like being caged with a lion.
Ray turned back to the viewport. The village, burning sluggishly was desolate beneath the long column of smoke that rose in the still air.
Lodar's strides halted at the magnaflux, he twirled the detector impatiently. "Still clear," he muttered. Then, louder, "Fix a course for Earth, Burk. As soon as all are aboard, we'll take off."
Ray glanced quickly at Lodar, surprised at the sudden change of course, but he said nothing. This was Lodar's last flight, if all went well he was through. Perhaps that was why he was so savagely nervous. After all, it was time he quit. Luck had been with him overlong.
The interphone jingled and Lodar answered it.
"All right, Campora," he said after a moment, "get set for takeoff. Then report up here to me." He turned to Ray. "Take off, Mister. Make it snappy!"
Ray checked the safety lights, then signaled for power. He hoped McVane was sober. The sad-faced little engineer just couldn't stay away from his bottle.
But McVane was at least sober enough, for the metal floor began to throb gently as the converters on the lower deck groaned to life. While the machines built up to speed Ray adjusted the drive for a sixty degree lift. He could hear the soft grate of the Benson Plates shifting on the outer hull.
The interphone tinkled and Ray heard McVane's broad accents. "Ye can rip the bottom off her, Mister!" Yes, McVane was drunk again. He'd been out in the space rays too long perhaps, but the indicators showed him on the job.
Ray closed the ether drive and the ship rose silently as if caught on an elevator belt. He set the course carefully, aware of Lodar at his elbow, watching. If the Captain would only watch McVane as he did the others, things might be a lot better.
Perhaps Lodar was afraid for the hoard of jewels which was rumored to be aboard. Ray had heard whispers of this wealth, but he doubted that Lodar would fear any man, much less the space rats aft. Why, he could whip any ten of them!
Ray had cut in the autopilot when the bulkhead door swung open to admit Campora. The First Mate still wore his rubber marsh boots and a gun slung on his narrow waist.
"A fine haul, Captain." He touched his dark mustache and a grin slit the sallow face. "About fifty Mutes." Then his grin faltered as he saw the Captain's expression.
Lodar faced him with huge fists balled on his hips.
"Who the hell gave you permission to set fire to that village, Mister?"
Campora's brown eyes darted once to Ray as if for support. His lean hand covered the black mustache. "Just a little fun for the boys, Captain." The Mate's voice was placating. "We--"
"Fun, eh!" Lodar's eyes were narrow as he thrust his heavy face forward. "If there's any fun to be dispensed, I'll do it! Do you morons realize that the smoke will alert half the patrol ships in space?"
"I--I'm sorry, Captain." Campora backed away. "You see--"
"Shut up!" Lodar jerked his dark head. "Take over from Burk."
Feeling sorry for the cowed mate, Ray relinquished his controls and gave the course. Campora stared.
"But--I thought we were to head for Mars!"
"I changed that," Lodar interrupted impatiently.
"You never told us!" Campora looked excited. "You agreed that we'd never head for Earth without warning. You know the men won't stand for it!"
"Yes, they will!" Lodar eyed the mate steadily. "Tell 'em they needn't worry, I'll look out for them."
"There'll be trouble!" Campora snapped.
"Is that a threat?" The big man's voice was icy. Then, as Campora subsided mumbling, Lodar turned abruptly to Ray.
"You can come with me, Burk, if you want to look at the cargo."
As he headed for the exit Ray followed curiously. It was the young navigator's first trip to Venus and he'd never seen a Mute close at hand. Which was strange, since his own past was so inextricably tied up with them.
Ray had served five years with the Mars-Venus Company to earn his unlimited navigator's ticket on the Mars passenger flights.
This company was chartered "to develop and exploit the planets of Mars and Venus" and most of its wealth came from the exploitation. For years Venus Mutes had been captured and sold to zoos or to wealthy people for pets.
The practice was strongly condemned by humanitarian groups on Earth. This became so vociferous that, finally, the Earth Federation halted all flights to Venus regardless of charter.
The Company declared such law was illegal. It would send a ship to Venus and have matters settled in court.
At this time Ray Burk was due to command his first ship. He was offered the Venus flight--the breaking of law to be merely a step in establishing precedent, so they said. It sounded like high adventure, with himself carrying the ball. He gladly accepted. And, as expected, he was intercepted by an Earth patrol ship.
But in the ensuing legal battle the Company found its very charter jeopardized. It hastily switched tactics, disclaimed all knowledge of the flight, and said Ray had set an incorrect course. Even hardened politicians smiled at such a thin excuse, but the Company made it stick. Ray lost his navigator's license. He was through.
The Company even went further in order to clear itself. It righteously promised to limit the capture of Mutes and save them from extinction. In fact, it offered to patrol Venus and stop illegal raids by others.
Then the price of Mutes rose to fantastic heights. Poachers moved in to reap fortunes from the trade.
Lodar was one of them. Cashiered from the Earth Fleet, an ex-officer, he was well trained to outmaneuver the patrols. It was he who offered Ray his first job in months.
"Get in on the gravy," he urged. "They already made you a goat, and no one else will employ you!"
After all, it wasn't criminal. They were only doing what the Company had done for years. There was a thrill of adventure in the risky smuggling, a sense of getting even with those who had disgraced him unjustly.
Yes, Ray was curious to see these Mutes who were at the base of his trouble.
He followed Lodar along the central corridor to the mid-section well, and down to the lower deck. The surging hum of the converters wafted on the warm air as they passed the engine room.
In the after hold Jenkins and his Number Two Gang were bracing a large metal cage. Entering behind Lodar, Ray stared with mingled feelings at the captives behind the bars.
"Why, they look like humans!" he gasped. No wonder so many people objected to the trade!
They were slightly smaller than humans, with paler skin, and their hair was blond, almost ashen. They regarded their captors with large blue eyes, but the rustling of grass and skins in which they were dressed was the only sound they made.
"Like our earliest type of man, perhaps," Lodar admitted. "But of a different evolution. No vocal cords."
"Just dummies." Jenkins spoke up from behind Ray.
"That's a lie!" The indignant voice was a woman's.
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